Title:  "The Joy of the Children"
Author:  Lisa Renee 
Chapter:  One
Summary:  The events immediately following the last sentence of  
"Christy".
*********************************************************************
Disclaimer:  Catherine Marshall's beautiful story of "Christy" is owned by 
the LeSourd family.  I am in no way seeking profit or credit for her story, nor 
am I attempting to infringe upon the rights of the television series, "Christy".  
I am continuing the story of  "Christy" for my amusement only.  Any 
additions in story and character were invented by me.  Also, any similarities 
to the story lines of other fanfictions are purely coincidental.

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

From end of "Christy":

I WAS HEAVY, so heavy.  My eyelids were leaden. They would not open.  
The familiar voice, a man's voice, very soft.  he was talking to me, 
calling me. "Christy, Christy, you've got to come back to me. Christy, 
wherever you are, listen to me...  Christy, I love you, love you, 
*love you*.  Christy can you hear me?  Down in your spirit, at the depth 
of you, do you hear what I'm saying to you?  *I love you!*  You cannot 
leave me without knowing this.  Christy--"

     And then the tone of the words changed.  "God, I have fought 
against You because I have not understood.  Not only fought, God, but 
cursed You. I did not understand why You let Margaret die--and our son.  
I did not understand anything about You.  I still don't understand 
anything--except that somehow I know *You are love.*  And that in my 
heart has been born so great a love for Christy as I did not know could 
exist on this earth.  You, God, must be responsible.  You must have put 
it there.  So what do I do with it now?"  The voice broke.  The 
bedclothes muffled a man's sobs.  I wanted to comfort the man in some 
way.  I tried to lift my hand, but it was too heavy. Still my eyelids 
would not open.

     The voice was hoarse with emotion.  "Lord God Almighty, Lord God of 
heaven and of earth, I have been stiff-necked and proud, arrogant and 
stupid.  I am not worthy of--of anything, least of all to ask any favors 
of You."  The voice paused.  The room was very quiet.  I could hear the 
sharp intake of the man's breath.  "Lord God, You are the Creator, I am 
the created.  I am helpless, as helpless as all other men.  As a doctor, 
I thought I knew something.  Now there is nothing more that I can do for 
Christy.  Nothing at all.

     "So I offer back to You this love You gave.  IT's all I have to 
give You, God.  Here are our lives--hers and mine--I hold them out to 
You.  Do--with us--as--You please."  The voice fell silent.
     So his was the voice that had called me back.  Dr. MacNeill's.  He 
needed me.  He *loved* me.  He loved me like *that*.  

     There was a warm glow in the room.  Warmth came into me, starting 
at the top of my head and flowing steadily downward, into my brain, into 
my face--my eyelids fluttered open.  Familiar objects in the room came 
into focus.  He was still there beside my bed, his head sunk on the 
covers, on hand stretched out with the bowl of that old pipe of his 
clutched in it, but the stem of the pipe was broken.  It had fallen from 
his hand and lay on the rumpled covers of the bed.  

     And still the strength and the warmth flowed--into my chest, along 
my arms.  I could move my fingers now.

     I felt across the counterpane until my hand reached his, the big 
hand with the blond-red hairs on top.  My fingers closed over his hand 
and gripped it.  His head came up.

     "*Christy*!"  

     The joy of the children was in his voice.


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

"The Joy of the Children", Chapter One:

THE JOY OF THE CHILDREN...Dr. MacNeill had the joy of the 
children...*What I wanted!*

     Suddenly, without needing to know when or why or how, I knew that I 
loved Dr. MacNeill.  I *loved* him!  I loved him like he loved me!
     There were tears in his hazel eyes--tears.  Yes, and something 
else--the expression I had seen there so many times and not recognized:  
love, true, pure love.

     My hand still rested on his, and he caught it up to his lips.  "Oh, 
God," he cried through a sob.  "You have brought her back to me!"
     It wasn't really a prayer--more like an irrepressible cry of 
gratitude that surged from Dr. MacNeill's soul.  He was just talking to 
God, his God now, and it was so obvious to me what a deep, personal 
experience he had had with the Lord.

     I wanted to speak.  I wanted to tell the Doctor how happy I was 
that he had found God.  But I was at a loss for words; I didn't have any 
idea how to begin.  I also felt "I love you" welling up inside me, yet  
I felt too shy to say such a thing; I had just discovered my feelings 
for him myself.  And the mere thought of speaking took more energy than 
I possessed.

     Oh, but I wanted to say something...anything.  When I looked into 
his eyes, though, I knew I didn't *have* to say anything.  I squeezed 
the Doctor's hand again and twined my fingers through his.
     With his free hand, Dr. MacNeill felt my forehead.  Instantly, he 
was all doctor, and he released my hand.  He checked my pules, felt my 
side, my stomach.  I had the sensation he had done this before...His 
gentle hands examining me...When had that been?  I had been in a 
fog...Not too long ago, it was...

     Did my stomach hurt?  My side?  "No," I told him; it took a lot of 
effort, but I managed to utter the word.  That other time it *had* hurt, 
and I hadn't been able to tell him.  Was I well now?  I thought I read 
relief on the Doctor's rugged features.  The worry lines on his forehead 
softened, his eyes were bright, he was smiling...I must be well.  But I 
was so tired...

     Before I could ask him, though, Dr. MacNeill had sprung from my 
bedside, thrown open the door, and cried out, "Alice!  Alice, come 
quickly!"

     Footsteps, clattering up the stairs...Miss Alice was in the room in 
an instant.

     "Neil," she panted from the doorway, "is--is Christy--"  She saw 
that I was awake and was instantly at my side, holding my hand, stroking 
my hair.  Tears flowed down her cheeks.

     "It's a miracle, Alice--a miracle!" cried the Doctor, smiling 
broadly.  "Half an hour ago it was hopeless; there was nothing I could 
do for her.  But the fever has broken, her pulse is normal, everything 
looks good!  She's out of danger!  It was *God*, Alice!  He healed her!"
     Miss Alice was dumbfounded.  My heart thrilled at Dr. MacNeill's 
words because I knew what had happened in him.  But Mis Alice hadn't 
heard him pray, and her expression pleaded for an explanation.

     "Yes, Alice, I did acknowledge God, and I will be delighted to talk 
with you later."

     Miss Alice nodded, grey eyes bright; it seemed as if she suddenly 
grasped the meaning of his words and the change in the Doctor's 
countenance.  Just then, David burst through the door, Ida at his heels.
     "We heard the commotion," he said.  "How's--"

     "Good morning, David," I said, finally finding enough energy to 
speak.

     David's dark brows shot up.  "Christy!  You're awake!"

     "Awake," added Dr. MacNeill, "and on the road to recovery!"

     "How do you feel, Christy?" David asked, both relieved and 
concerned.

     "Tired.  Very tired."

     "That is understandable," said Dr. MacNeill, smiling tenderly at 
me.  "You have had a rough time of it, Christy.  It will be several days 
at least before you begin to feel stronger--you know that from nursing 
typhoid.  Lots of rest is what you need."

     I nodded, my eyelids beginning to droop.

     "We should leave her now," the Doctor told the others.
     "I will look in on thee when you have slept," said Miss Alice.
     Dr. MacNeill lingered in the room after the others had gone.
     "I want to talk to you, Dr. MacNeill."

     "You don't have to call me 'Dr. MacNeill', you know. I don't recall 
calling you 'Miss Huddleston' in quite some time.  Aren't you familiar 
enough with me for 'Neil' to suffice?"

     He said it teasingly, but I knew he meant it.  'Dr. MacNeill' did 
sound distant.

     Neil came back over to me and sank into the chair next to my bed. 
It was then I noticed his haggard appearance. 

     "When was the last time you had a decent night's sleep, Neil?"
     He grinned--wearily--but was still quick in his banter.  "Are you 
going to be the doctor now, Christy?"

     "Yes," I replied and reached up to finger an unruly red curl that 
fell over his forehead, then laid my hand upon his cheek, which was 
rough with several days' unshaven beard.  "It was before the epidemic, 
wasn't it?"

     He nodded, drawing in his breath and placing his large hand on top 
of mine.  "But that's not what you wanted to talk to me about."
     "No," I murmured, yawning.  "You're too tired...You must go sleep 
for a while...Then  we'll talk."

     "Yes, Teacher."

     I closed my eyes, but I knew he was smiling, and I knew exactly 
how...so loving...I felt his lips, soft and gentle, on my forehead.  
Then I drifted away...Blissful sleep.


WHEN I AWOKE late in the afternoon, my first thought was how nice it 
would feel to wash.  I tried to get out of bed, but my legs shook 
violently when I tried to put my weight on them.  I knew I should stay 
in bed, but the thought of cool water on my body--just a quick sponge 
bath--was so appealing that somehow, with the aid of various articles of 
furniture, I slowly made my way across the room to the wash stand.

     I let out a small cry when I saw myself in the mirror.  My face was 
as white as my sheets, and my cheek bones protruded from the taught 
skin.  There were deep hollows and black, black circles under my eyes.  
I noticed how loosely my nightgown fit, and it dawned on me that I had 
lost a lot of weight.  

     "You shouldn't be so surprised, Christy," I said to myself.  

"Everyone who survives typhoid looks like this."  

     But I was so wasted!  I could count every rib, every bone in my 
body, for that matter.  There was nothing left of me!  Suddenly, I had 
no strength left, and I more or less crawled back to my bed.  Washing 
would just have to wait, I thought with a sigh.

     The door opened a crack and Miss Alice poked her head in.  "Ah, 
thou art awake!  Did you sleep well?  Would thee like something to eat?"
     "I slept very well, and yes I *am* hungry."  THen I added, "Miss 
Alice, I want to wash so badly, but I don't have the strength.  Can you 
help me get out of bed so I can freshen up?"

     She smiled compassionately and complied, and soon I was tucked 
between fresh sheets, smelling nice, my hair brushed and braided, 
wearing a clean nightgown.  Though momentarily refreshed, by the time 
Miss Alice had helped me eat a bowl of hot broth, I was once again 
drained of all energy.

     Miss Alice noted my yawns and drooping eyelids and smoothed back a 
few stray hairs from my forehead.  "Now, you must rest some  
more,Christy."

     "I hate sleeping so much," I replied.  "But it *does* feel good..."

     "No one is more entitled to it."

     "Except Dr. MacNeill.  I told him to sleep.  Did he?"

     "Yes, he did," Miss Alice assured me.  "After he left thee, he went 
to his room and didn't even get up for lunch.  I imagine someone will 
have to wake him so he does not sleep through dinner, as well.  But do 
not talk any more, Christy.  there will be plenty of time for that 
later.

     "Yes, later..." And once again I was a captive of all-enveloping 
solace and repose.

**********************************************************************
Chapter:  Two
Summary:  Christy catches up with Miss Alice and *others*.  (He, he!)

*********************************************************************
TWO DAYS consisting chiefly of uninterrupted sleep left me decidedly 
better, and as Miss Alice fed me my dinner of broth (Was it dinner?  I 
had been having broth for every meal, so it was becoming difficult to 
keep track of which meal I was eating), I gave Ruby Mae a run for her 
money as to how many questions could be asked in a small time-span.  I 
wanted to know about everything I had missed during my illness.

     "It is my prayer that typhoid has run its course here," Miss Alice 
said.  "Neil seems to think so--no new cases since you came down with 
it, and that was nearly four weeks ago.  Lety Coburn didn't make it, 
though," she added sorrowfully.

     "Poor Bessie!" I cried, with a stab of grief for al my students who 
had lost parents and other loved ones during the epidemic.  I could not 
think about it then, so I changed the subject.  "Do my parents know I've 
had typhoid?"

     "I telephoned them when thee first became ill.  They were both very 
worried about you and ready to come on the first train from Asheville, 
but Neil was adamant against anyone coming into the Cove during the 
epidemic, whether they were family or not.  Your father called every 
night to find out how you were and make me promise to call them if there 
was any change at all in your condition.  It was the hardest thik in the 
world, Christy, to tell them day after day that you were no better and 
still not permit them to come to you.  Two nights ago we were all afraid 
that we were going to *have* to call them and tell them to come.  Your 
life was completely in teh Lord's hands."

     It frightened me to think how close I had been to death; I knew how 
worried my parents must have been, and how frustrated being able only to 
sit at home and wait.

     "However," Miss Alice said, "you should have heard the sighs of 
relief when I talked to your father the morning you awoke.  He would 
like you to telephone when you feel up to it."

     I nodded.  "Has the school opened?"  I asked, suddenly thinking 
about it.

     Miss Alice told me it had, and that David was teaching during my 
absence.  "Oh," she added, "we sent the boarders home; with all the 
typhoid being nursed here, Neil said it would be best."

     "Where is Neil?"

     "Oh, somewhere around," said Miss Alice.  "Making various calls, I 
presume, but I think he will be here soon to examine thee--and to talk."  
She smiled,then continued, "Neil and I had a long discussion last night, 
and I was very pleased by it."

     I knew exactly what Miss Alice had discussed with Neil; she was 
glowing from head to toe because of Neil's conversion, and her joy 
filled me with excitement to speak with him about it.

     "And what has caused such a lovely smile to cross thy face, Miss 
Huddleston?" my friend asked.  "Thou art beaming!"

     "Oh, Miss Alice!" I cried, unable to contain myself.  "I love 
Neil!"

     A satisfied expression was on her face, but I saw something else 
there, as well.

     "You knew!"

     A nod and a smile from the Quaker lady.  "I have known for a long 
time that thou hast loved Neil."

     *A long time?*  I thought, then I realized it *had* been a long 
time:  from the very beginning he had annoyed and confused me--yes, even 
infuriated me, and yet I sometimes felt that he understood me and my 
dreams better than anyone else.  I had often wondered why my feelings 
for Neil MacNeill were so confused, and now I wanted to laugh wildly at 
my blindness.  It was because I loved him!  Why else would I have felt 
so happy and free when I danced with him at Ruby Mae's wedding?  Why 
else would I have been dizzy and light-headed after he kissed me?  Why 
else, in a moment of sudden warmth and realization of belonging in the 
Cove, would I have kissed *him* as I did on that day I rode with him to 
the mission?  Of course, it was because I loved him!

     "I am very glad that you have at last discovered your feelings," 
Miss Alice said.

     "Well, well, look here; Rip van Winkle has awakened at last," David 
teased from the doorway, interrupting our conversation.  That boyish 
gleam was in his dark eyes.  "These are for you, Christy," he said, 
handing me a bouquet of autumn wildflowers.

     Immediately I thought, "I never gave David an answer to his 
proposal.  And here I am in love with another man, while the first 
resumes his courting.  Whatever am I going to do?"

     "They're lovely, David.  How very sweet of you," I said awkwardly, 
as I accepted the gift.  But just then, I noticed that he looked more 
peaceful than I had seen him in a long time, and his expression was one 
of friendship--not courtship.  Quickly I added, "Thank you so much for 
taking over the school, David.  How is it going?  How are the children?"

    "They miss you..."

     All of the sudden, I realized how much I missed the children.  I 
missed seeing those dirty, bright shining faces every day.  I missed 
their jokes, their questions, their stories, their curiosity, their 
tenacity, their zeal...Oh, how I loved them!  How long had it been?  
Much, much too long!

     "Thou art someplace else, Christy Huddleston."  Miss Alice's words 
brought me back from my thoughts, and I realized I hadn't been listening 
to David.

     "Oh,David, I'm so sorry.  I didn't mean...I just started thinking 
about the children, and..."

    "It's all right, Christy," David replied, taking my hand.  "I 
understand.  We can talk later, when you're feeling more like it."

     "Thank you," I said, pulling my hand away, but smiling.

     "We're overdue for a long talk," he said from the doorway.  "That's 
my fault."  There was no sign of reproach in his voice, and I knew 
everything was going to be right between us.

     "How's my patient?" Neil came in my room a few minutes later, 
smiling broadly at me.

     "Much better," I replied, completely forgetting about David.

     "Good."

     Neil kept his eyes fixed on me, and I felt the color rising in my 
cheeks.  I looked down at my quilt to hide my blush, but I could still 
feel his gaze, which made it even worse.  I knew my face was bright 
crimson, and I knew that both he and Miss Alice saw.

     Miss Alice silently gathered up the tray and empty dishes.
     "I have to examine her first, Alice," said Neil, sticking a 
thermometer in my mouth.  "You don't have to leave just yet."

     He took my pulse, listened to my heart, poked and prodded and 
looked me over, and finally, removed the thermometer.  "Very good."  He 
grinned. 

 "No fever at all.  Ten more fever-free days, and I'll let you get out 
of bed."

     "Then can I go back to school?"

     "No," he replied, shaking his head, "because you will still need to 
take it easy.  I want you to completely regain your strength before you 
go back."     

     "But, Neil," I protested, "I *have* to go--"

     "David can handle it, Christy.  I don't want you to do too much 
too soon; that's the best way to get sick again--especiall with all the 
germs those children carry."

     "How long, though?" I pleaded.

     "As long as it takes.  I will tel you when you can go back."

     "Well, what about the boarders?" I asked indignantly; I was dying 
to see the children, and the Doctor just wasn't cooperating.  "When can 
they come back?"

     "Not until you're back in school."

     I started to argue, but Neil held up his hand to silence me.  

"Christy, how much rest do you think you'd be getting with them here?  
I simply cannot allow a bunch of children here while you're recovering; 
you've been very sick."

     "I know!" I cried.  "But please, Neil?  *Please?*"

     "You're a very stubborn patient, Miss Huddleston."

     "I think you just enjoy lording it over me that you get to decide 
what I can and cannot do," I retorted.

     "Aye," Neil said.  "You're used to getting you're way with people 
because you're so clever, but I'll tell you right now you'll not be 
getting your way with *me*.

     "You're just a stubborn Scot."

     "I'm not ashamed to admit it, Miss Huddleston," he grinned.

     "Thee must do as the Doctor says," said Miss Alice on her way out 
the door, suppressing a grin.  "I am very pleased with his report, though.  
I will see thee again later."

     Neither Neil nor I spoike for several minutes after Miss Alice had 
gone.

     "You don't know how relieved I am that you don't have a fever," he 
said at last.  Then he added, his eyes gleaming mischievously, 
"Although you had me worried a few minutes ago; you were terribly flushed."

     My mouth fell open.  "That's not fair, Doctor!  You *made* be 
blush!" I blurted.  I covered my mouth, realizing what I had just said.  
Dr. MacNeill threw back his head and laughed, and if I was red before, 

I certainly blushed now.

     "*I* made you blush?" he asked, still laughing.

     I laughed, too, in spite of myself.  "I have always been one to 
blush horribly at anything; it is my lifelong affliction."

     "But tell me, what could I have done to embarrass you so?"

     "Nothing!" I said.  I did *not* want him to know he could have 
effected me so with a single look.  But he stopped laughing and gazed 
at me as before.  Neil got his desired result; I tried not to, but I felt 
his eyes watching me so intently, all I could do was blush.  Oh, he was 
a merciless tease!  The man had unnerved me, and he knew it.

    "Are you sure it was nothing I did?" he asked playfully, and I had 
to laugh with him.

     When we were serious once more, I tried to think what I was going 
to say to him.  How on earth was I going to begin?  I had heard him 
confess his love for me; I had heard him weep; I had heard him cry out to God.  
I was so curious, but could I really ask him about such things?  Was it 
right?  I felt as though I had intruded on his heart.

     "I know what you want to talk to me about, Christy," Neil said.

     "You always do," I murmured, marveling at how well he knew me.

     "There are two reasons for that," he said with a chuckle.  "One, 
I'm observant, and two,  those big blue eyes of yours can't hide a thing."  

After a brief pause he continued, "Anyway, you heard me.  I don't know 
how much you heard, but you heard *something*."

     "You prayed."
     "Were you surprised to hear me pray, Christy?"

     "Well," I said slowly.  "I didn't know it was you at first.  But 
when I *did* know, yes, I think I was a *little* surprised.  But, Neil, 
why did you pray?"

     "For the first time in my life, I realized how helpless I was.  

And then I heard the voice I had shut out all my life.  And then I 
found..." 

His voice trailed away.

     "What did you find?"

     "Love," came his simple reply.

     "That's what I found," I said, remembering those days of anguish 
and oubt and emptiness after Fairlight died.  I told him about my encounter 
with God.  "You see, we're the same."

     "But you believed in Him all your life," said Neil.  "I ran from 
Him and mocked Him."

     I shook my head.  "It doesn't matter what you did."

     "That's what Alice said."

     "Do you believe it?"

     "At first I was skeptical," Neil admitted.  "It seemed strange to 
me that all men's sin could be the same in the sight of God.  And I didn't 
just want to adopt Alice's faith; it had to be *mine*.  But when I 
think about that love..."

     "You know it has to be?" I finished.
     "Yes, and I can *feel* His forgiveness.  He told me that He's 
wiped all that away."

     "So," I stammered.  "You, you..."

     "Yes, Christy, you can't get it out, but I know what you're 
asking.   I've asked the Lord to forgive my sins and ot come into my life."

     My eyes filled with tears.  I had known Neil had become a 
Christian, but to hear him declare it stirred my heart.  "I'm so happy to hear 
that!  You have no idea how happy, Neil!"

     Neil smiled, but we lapsed into silence again.  I spoke first this 
time.  "You said I believed in God all my life.  Well, I believed 
*about* God before I met Him on the mountain, not *in* Him; that's about the 
same as not believing at all.  And come to think of it, you knew I didn't 
know what I believed.  You knew that wasn't really belief, and that was 
something that made me think, as mad as it made me at the time."

     Neil smiled reluctantly and hung his head a little.  "I'm sorry 
about that.  We've had our differences, but that's all forgiven, isn't 
it?"

     I looked into his eyes.  "I forgave you a long time ago."
 
    For a minute I thought he might say something, but he didn't.  

Neil studied me for a moment.  "Is that all you heard."

     "What?"

     "Did you only hear me pray?"

     "Well, no.  I as far away," I explained to him my vision of the 
children and the light.  "I heard you calling me."

     Neil's mouth turned in a half-grin, and he looked down, fingers 
tugging nervously at the ends of his hair.  "You heard *everything* 
then..."  More to himself than to me, he added, "This is going to be a 
lot tougher to explain than the prayer was."

     "You don't have to explain," I said, feeling horribly for having 
let on that I knew.

  He met my gaze again.  "Not it's all right.  You and I have always 
been honest with each other, Christy, and since you heard, I owe you an 
explaination."

     "I didn't *mean* to listen..."

     "I was talking to you, anyway.  I knew you might hear me..." Neil 
again ran his hand through his hair as he groped for what he would say 
next.  "I would not have spoiken to you if I didn't want you to hear, 
and I wanted you to hear, because if you could, it would be a good sign...I 
*had* to tell you how I felt about you in case you...And that's the way 
I feel about you."

     Neil must have had a thought that his confession might make me 
uncomfortable, because he added, in a softer tone, "I said it because 
that's how I feel, but, Christy, I'm not trying to make you fall in 
love with me..."

     "I am," I said, without even thinking.

     "You are what?"

     "In love with you," I replied, gazing up into his eyes.  How easy 
it was to tell him that!  "I love you, Neil!"

     The Doctor was rapturous.  His expression had changed from one of 
shyness and doubt to the most joyous one I had ever seen.  "Oh, 
Christy!  You love me?"  He grasped both my hands, leaning closer to me.

     "Yes, Neil, I do!"

     Neil leaned over and kissed my temple, then my cheek; I held my 
breath.  His fingers lightly caressed my chin as his lips met mine, 
softely, tenderly...And no kiss had ever been sweeter than that first 
expression of our new-found love."   
**********************************************************************

Chapter:  Three
Summary:  Christy has another important discussion; tells of a thriving 
relationship.

"The Joy of the Children", Chapter Three

LIGHT flooded my room and pulled my eyes open--morning.  How odd that I 
didn't remember falling asleep.  My mind was endlessly replaying the 
previous evening's scene with Neil:  how I told him I loved him, the 
look on his face, his *kiss*...

     After that, everything was a blur, but I vaguely recalled him 
gently laying me back against my pillows, pulling the covers up to my 
chin, whispering, "Go to sleep, Christy."  How could I have possibly 
gone to sleep after being kissed like that?  It had been gentle, but so 
exhilarating at the same time, and I had wanted to be with Neil 
longer...But somehow I had fallen asleep, my sleep filled with sweet 
dreams...

     I threw back the bedclothes and got out of bed.  My legs were a 
little shaky as I made my way across my room to the balcony, but it felt 
good to be out of bed.  I stood and gazed out at the autumn landscape.  
The mountains were right outside my window, shining orange and red as 
the sun rose behind them.  I had never seen such a glorious dawn, and 
the beauty filled my entire body with strength.

     A honking v of geese flew over the huge trees, whose golden leaves 
swirled gracefully to the frosty ground in the icy breeze.  I realized 
how cold it was then, as I shivered in my nightgown, and decided to get 
my robe.  I put it on and brushed and braided my hair, then went back 
out on the balcony to see that Neil was riding up into the yard.
     "Good morning, Neil!" I called down to him cheerfully.

     He looked up at me, surprised.  "And good morning to you, Christy," 
he replied, tethering Charlie to a post and hurrying inside the mission 
house.

     I was still out on the balcony when he knocked on my door and came 
in.

     "I was afraid we'd wake up everyone in the mission if we kept 
shouting to each other like that," he said.  "But I *would* like to know 
what you're doing out of bed, Miss Huddleston.  Did I not distinctly 
tell you that you were to stay in bed for ten days?"  He looked serious.

     I decided to wile myself out of this one.  "Well, yes, you did, 
Doctor, but I woke up and saw the sun coming up over the mountains, and 
I just *had* to get up.  I've never seen such a lovely morning--this is 
my first autumn in Cutter Gap, you know...And I feel *great* today."

     "That may be, but you know how typhoid is," Neil replied, coming 
over to me.  "And I would hold myself responsible if were to relapse."  
He stood very close now, his hands on my shoulders, and he continued, 
almost in a whisper, "I don't want anything else to happen to you, 
Christy..."

     I didn't get in bed immediately.  I just stood there, gazing at 
Neil.  He lifted my chin and softly kissed my forehead.

     "I really mean it, Christy," he said, caressing my cheek with the 
back of his fingers.  "Go back to bed.  I know you dread it, but it's 
for the best right now.  I promise I'll be here often--and not just to 
take your temperature."

    I went back to my bed and climbed in.  When the good Doctor spoke so 
tenderly, how could I not obey him?


LATER in the day David came to see me.  "Christy, are you feeling up to 
talking today?"

     "Of course," I told him.

     "Are you sure?  I have some pretty serious things I want to say."

     "Yes David, I'm very sure." 

     I motioned to a bedside chair, and he sat down, nervously rubbing 
his hands on his knees for a moment.  

     I touched his arm ad said, "Don't worry, David.  You can tell me 
anything, you know."

     "Well, then," David began, clearing his throat, "I'll start with 
what happened to me while you were sick.  It's the best place to start.

     "Remember the night you collapsed I had been talking about not 
knowing where God wanted me to be?  Well, I did a lot of thinking--and 
praying--about that.  I don't know if you heard me in the midst of your 
delirium, but I told you that I had decided to stay here.  You see, 
Christy, I had an encounter with God, and for the first time in my life, 
I really felt His Presence.  It was the greatest thing I've ever 
experienced.  Suddenly I was before Him, and He was showing me His 
glory, and I realized that He was the One for Whom I'm supposed to live.  
He showed me so many areas in my life which I had not given over to Him.  
He told me that I would never have peace about anything unless I truly 
made Him Master of my life--like Miss Alice was telling me.

     "So, after a lot of self-examination, I asked God to take my 
*whole* life, and I knew that He had it; it was up to me to listen to 
Him now and obey.  And that's what I *want* to do.  I'm not afraid of 
His Lordship any more."

     Oh, David," I cried.  "I'm so happy for you!"

     "Thanks," he replied.  "But there's something else I want to say."  
He took a deep breath.  "Christy, last July I asked you to marry me."
     "David, I--"

     He held up a hand.  "No, let me talk.  I never should have asked 
you. I told myself that our marriage was what God wanted for my life.  
It seemed so perfect; why else would God have brought both of us here?  
Why else would we have been such good friends from the beginning if not 
for some great purpose? 

     "I realize now that His purpose is just that--for us to be friends.  
I'm sorry if this hurts you, Christy.  It's my fault for being impulsive 
and hasty in our relationship, for assuming it was love when it wasn't.  
And I'm afraid I haven't been very gentlemanly, either."

     "Don't feel badly, David," I said.  "I've known for a while, too, 
that we weren't meant to be husband and wife.  I know that Cutter Gap is 
where God wants me.  This is where I'm going to spend my life, and you 
might not, David; if I married you, I couldn't fully commit myself to 
this place."

     David nodded as I continued," I can't tell you how much your 
friendship has meant to me, though.  I don't know what I would have done 
those first few months her if it hadn't been for you, David.  I love you 
very much."

     Smiling, David said, "I love you, too, Christy."  He kissed me 
softly on the cheek--a sisterly kiss.

     We both turned our heads to peer out the window at the sound of 
hoof beats outside.  Neil was riding up into the mission yard.
     David stood and said, "I've got some stuff to do, so I'll leave you 
now."  He grinned impishly.  "I think a certain Doctor is very anxious 
to examine his patient--or maybe just to see the woman he loves."

     I blushed slightly, and that boyish look came ito David's eyes as 
he bantered, "Don't look so surprised, Christy.  Everyone around here 
knows there's an--" he groped for a word.  "--*attraction* between the 
two of you.  It's obvious to anyone who has eyes."


INITIALLY I dreaded those ten days alone in my room, but they did not 
end up being as lonely as I had thought.  When I wasn't napping or 
reading, Miss Alice and David kept me company, as did Neil, who was at 
the mission every moment he could be.

     The two of us spent hours talking.  It was so easy to talk to Neil!  
I realized that we had always conversed easily--whether we had gotten 
along or not.  But now we could talk *without* arguing.  Many of our 
conversations were about God.  I smiled to myself as I recalled the time 
in the schoolroom when Neil had asked me why religion was important to 
me and what was my philosophy of life; how much better it was now!  I 
had a *real* relationship with my God, so I didn't speak vaguely or 
"mouth platitudes" as Neil had accused me before.  And his scientific 
mind had been transformed--no more trying to reason everything for Neil 
MacNeill; personally experiencing God's love was 
reason enough for him to believe.

     One day Neil came into my room carrying a tattered book.  "It's my 
father's Bible," he explained.  "And it was his father's before that.  
Actually, my ancestors brought it all the way from Scotland."  In a 
soft, reluctant tone he added, "My parents used to read it aloud every 
night.  I've wandered so far from their teachings..."

     I had never heard him speak of his parents.  Laying my hand on his, 
I asked, "What happened to them, Neil?"

     "When I was twelve," he began, "my father was injured in a hunting 
accident--took a bullet in his shoulder.  It should not have killed him, 
but there was no doctor, and the wound was not properly cleaned.  It got 
infected and gangrene set in, then blood poisoning..."

     He looked up at me then, and continued.  "That's what made me 
decide to become a doctor, you know.  I could not stand to watch people 
die when, if there had been a doctor, they could have lived."

     Abruptly, Neil turned back to the story of his parents, his voice 
pained.  "Two years later, I had typhoid.  Mother nursed me through it, 
but then she fell ill from it and died."

     *Typhoid*.  The word ran in my ears like a death knell.  How many 
loved ones Neil had lost to that disease!  Not only Margaret and their 
baby, but his *mother*.  No wonder he responded emotionally to the 
epidemic.

     I sat dumbly for a few minutes, but finally I commented, "You said 
you've wandered from your parents' teachings, but you came back, Neil; 
that's what matters."  Then I added, "Will you read to me?"

     "Of course," Neil replied, thumbing absently through the pages.  

"Where should I start?"

     "At the beginning."

     "'In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth...'"  As he 
read, I watched how the words effected him.  His eyes gleamed as he read 
of the creation, the fall of man, Noah and the flood...These weren't 
just childhood stories any more; they were *real*, and God was alive in 
them and in Neil's heart.  I heard in a new way, too; the joy the words 
brought the reader poured out of him, and I was caught up in the awesome 
power of our God--the same Miracle Worker of the Old Testament.  Each 
day we read together, seeing the Lord more clearly in every verse, 
growing closer to Him--and each other.

     I treasured getting to know Neil better.  I began to see those 
strengths and depths to which Miss Alice had once referred.  Neil 
listened to me, let me say whatever I felt, always *wanted* to know...I 
could confide in him, and I trusted him completely.  Except for 
Fairlight and Miss Alice, there had been no one in the Cove with whom I 
felt so at ease.  Neil wholly understood me, like no one I had ever 
known.

     How was it that I could feel this way about Neil when only a few 
months before every conversations we had turned into an argument?  Now I 
saw how much we had in common:  our love for Cutter Gap and the people 
here; the desire to give all we could to them; a stubborn will that 
drove us to act on our beliefs.  Yet these were the same characteristics 
that had so annoyed me.  Maybe it was because I had missed the love and 
seen only stubbornness combined with conceit and disbelief in God.

     Oh, but since Neil became a Christian!  He was a new man--I had 
seen that immediately.  His indentions had been filled with God's love, 
and it magnified those other qualities and made them shine!  I knew that 
God had changed me, too, since I had come to Cutter Gap.  I was in awe 
of the miracles He had worked in our lives.  He had drawn the two of us 
to Himself, filled us up, and taken all the flaws in our relationship 
and perfected it to fit His desire for us!

     Miss Alice sat silently, a satisfied smile on her face as I related 
all this to her.  I had all these new feelings inside of me, and I 
wanted to share them with her.

     "Thou hast seen, as few people do, *exactly* the way God makes 
human beings more like Him.  When He says 'Be ye perfect as your Father 
is perfect', He does no mean for us to do it on our own; if we try, we 
will only fail miserably.  But when one is living in God's love and 
submitting to His will, He transforms that person, just as He has changed 
*you*, Christy. 

     "When you came here, you tried to live the life one must live in a 
place like Cutter Gap.  You were so sickened by some of the things you 
saw, you thought this couldn't be where God wanted you to be.  Then, 
little by little, bit by bit you heard Him calling to you to trust Him, 
and you learned to obey and to hold onto God's Presence.

     "Then one day you were suddenly enveloped in His love, His peace; 
He gave you a *real* faith, and you saw *Him*, and you haven't been that 
same Asheville girl since."

     I marvelled at how Miss Alice had known just what I had experienced 
deep in my heart.  God had gifted her with such wisdom and perception!  
She lapsed into one of her Quaker silence I had grown to love.  Finally 
she spoke again.  "I know that thou hast found joy here amid all the 
sorrows and struggles--in the children, in your friends, in *love*--" We 
both giggled, then she continued, "and most of all, in the Lord.  Hold 
on to that joy, Christy; *never* let it go.  It will see thee through 
everything."

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

Chapter:  Four
Summary:  The ten days are up; some visitors come to Cutter Gap.


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

"IT'S BEEN TEN DAYS, Miss Huddleston.  Are you ready to get out of bed?"
    I closed the book I had been reading and looked to the doorway of my 
room where Neil stood.  His formality, to which he often reverted 
playfully, caused me to smile.  He began laughing as he observed that 
the bed was made and I was sitting on top of the coverlet, fully 
dressed.

     "Now that is like you.  I would bet money you didn't want to waste 
any time getting downstairs when I gave my permission, so as soon as you 
woke up this morning, you got up and dressed.  I am right?"

     I just laughed.

     "Of course, Miss Huddleston, I ought to make you lie down again; 
you got up without my permission to get dressed."

     "Forgive me, Doctor," I said as I put my feet on the floor and 
stood.

     Neil came over to me and took my arm. "Let me help you," he said 
gently.  I was glad to receive his help; even though I felt better, my 
legs were weak and shaky from disuse.  I leaned on him as we went 
downstairs.

     "Alice tells me there's a telephone call you've been wanting to 
make?"

     "Yes," I replied.  "Father wanted me to telephone as soon as I felt 
up to it.  I really should have done it sooner, but a certain Doctor 
wouldn't let me out of bed."  I cast Neil a saucy, sidelong glance.

     He smiled.  "How unfeeling of him."

     Neil and I went into the living room where Miss Alice and David sat 
drinking tea.  Miss Alice rose, took my hand, and let me to the sofa.  
     "How do you feel?  It is nice to have thee downstairs again!"

     I sat down and sipped the scalding tea she gave me.  After visiting 
with everyone for a while, I decided to telephone my parents.  Miss 
Alice accompanied me and made the call.

     "Mr. Huddleston?" she said loudly into the receiver.  "This is 
Alice Henderson.  No, no, Christy is fine.  As a matter of fact, she is 
standing right here.  She wishes to speak with thee."

     "Daddy!" I cried.  "Yes, Daddy, I'm feeling *much* better.  Dr. 
MacNeill and everybody at the mission have taken good care of me.  I 
haven't had a fever for ten days, and I'm out of bed now.  Dr. MacNeill 
wants me to wait a while before I go back to teaching, though."

     My father asked me if it was safe for Mother and him to come see 
me.

     "You want to come all the way out to Cutter Gap?  I'm doing just 
fine, Daddy.  In no time I'll be completely back to normal.  You don't 
have to come, you know."

     I listened as Father informed me that he and Mother had not slept 
soundly since they heard I had typhoid and would not be content until 
they had seen me themselves.

     "Well, all right, Daddy, if you insist.  Let me ask the Doctor if 
he thinks it's safe."

     After receiving the affirmative, I went back to the telephone and 
relayed the answer to Father, who stated that he, Mother, and George 
would arrive at El Pano the next afternoon.

     "Someone from the mission will be there to meet you," I replied.  
"Give Mother my love."

     I hung up the receiver, walked back into the living room, and sat 
down in an empty chair next to Neil.  "My family is coming 
tomorrow--Mother and Father would not be persuaded otherwise.  Can 
someone meet them in El Pano?"

     "I will," David volunteered.  "I'll take the wagon and Buttons and 
Prince."

     A funny thought came to mind, and I laughed.  "You know, we could 
always get Ben Pentland to *walk* them the entire seven miles from El 
Pano so they could experience the Cove *my* way."

     "Complete with a brain surgery on the Spencers' kitchen table?"  
Neil quipped, a gleam in his eyes.

     "Oh, what a day that was," I groaned.  "I wonder what Mother would 
have thought."

     Suddenly I was caught in a flood of thoughts.  What *would* my 
mother think about Cutter Gap?  I knew she would cringe the moment she 
set eyes on one of the cabins and its inhabitants.  And it wouldn't help 
that I, as well as many others, was recovering from typhoid.  

     The others were talking, but I didn't hear them.  I was so worried 
about what my parents' opinion of the Cove wold be.  They wouldn't like 
it that I was here.  While they knew it only from my letters, they were 
somewhat assured that I was safe, but a letter could not truly depict 
what life here was *really* like.  Mother would pressure me to go back 
to Asheville with them, my health as an excuse.  How could I show them 
that I loved it here, regardless of how horrible it might seem to them?  
How could I ever make them understand that this was my home, where I 
knew God wanted me to stay?

     "What's on your mind, Christy?" Neil leaned close and whispered, 
concern in his eyes.   
    
     Before I could answer, David announced that he had some chores to 
do and Miss Alice that she was going to take some food to the Coburns, 
as she had several times of late, for Bessie was still slow in 
recovering and trying to manage all the housework, too.

     Neil and I were left alone in the living room.  

     "I wish they weren't coming, Neil," I said abruptly.

     "You're family?"

     "Yes," I replied.  "It's not that I don't *want* to see them..." I 
explained to him about my fears of what they would think, and I was 
almost sobbing with I finished.  "Oh, Neil, what if they make me go back 
to Asheville?  I'm so worried..."

     Neil gently took my hands in his.   "Christy, you told me that when 
you realized you wanted to give to these people, you knew without a 
shadow of a doubt that Cutter Gap was *exactly* where God wanted you to 
be.  Now, don't you think that He'll give your parents the same 
assurance He gave you?"

     I sniffed and looked into those compassionate hazel eyes.  God had 
spoken to me through Neil MacNeill.  I knew He had, because I felt a 
stirring in my soul the instant the words were uttered. 

     "Of course," I said, brightening.  "Thank you for reminding me."
     I squeezed his hand, and he smiled.


I STARED out the living room window.  Miss Alice and I were waiting for 
David to arrive with my family.  They were due at any moment, and I 
wanted not only to be the first to greet them, but for them to see how 
well I was recovering.  

     Miss Ida was in the kitchen cooking up a storm.  She had been up 
since before dawn scrubbing and cleaning, for she was as determined as I 
was to show my parents that I was perfectly safe in Cutter Gap; an 
immaculately kept house *would* go far in impression Mother.  I hoped 
and prayed it would.  Even after Neil's comforting words the previous 
day, I was still apprehensive of the visit.

     Miss Alice sensed my anxiety and laid a hand on my shoulder.  "The 
Lord *will* work it out, Christy Huddleston.  This is where thee belong.  
Trust in Him."

     I silently asked the Lord to take away my fear, and I felt better.  

     "Your friends are telling you just what I've been saying to you, 
Christy," a voice inside of me said.  "Remember the peace I gave you 
when you obeyed My command to stay in Cutter Gap.  Remember it, 
Christy."

     A horse's neigh.  Hoof beats.  Wagon wheels.  Yes, just coming up 
over the hill...There they were; George, riding Buttons, grinning and 
waving.  There were Mother and Father in the wagon.  

     "Hello, hello!" I cried, running out to meet them.

     Father jumped down from the wagon and caught me up in an embrace.  
"My Girlie...I'm so glad to see you!  You look very well, Girlie..."

     "I'm glad to see you, too, Daddy," I said, between kisses.  He 
released his hold on me to help Mother down.  She hugged me, too, and 
showered me with kisses.

     "Christy, I cannot say how relieved I am to see you!  Are you 
feeling all right?  You're so thin and pale...Are these people taking 
care of you?"

     "Of course they are, Mother.  Neil, I mean Dr. MacNeill--you'll 
meet him later; he had some other patients to see--has taken *very* good 
care of me, and so has everyone at the mission.  And it's not their 
fault I'm thin and pale; I've had *typhoid*, Mother.  Everyone loses 
weight when they've had typhoid.  But don't worry; I've been eating like 
a hose ever since I've been able to have something besides liquids.  
Miss Ida, Mr. Grantland's sister, is a fine cook."

     Mother smiled, but there was a "well, we'll just see about that" 
look behind it.  

     Miss Alice, who had been looking on, extended her hand to my 
parents.     "I am Alice Henderson.  I am very pleased to meet the two 
of thee in person."  She smiled and spoke to George.  "You must be 
George.  Did you enjoy the ride from El Pano?"

     "I did, very much," he said politely, dismounting Buttons with a 
bound and shaking Miss Alice's hand.

     "I expect you would all like some refreshment after your journey.  
Please, come inside."

     Mother and Father followed her up to the house, but I stayed behind 
with David and George, who were unloading the luggage from the wagon.  I 
smiled and said, "Thank you, David, for going for my family."

     "It was no trouble, Christy.  It was a pleasure to meet them."
     I could see George over David's shoulder, making a face.  He 
suspected something between David and me, and I knew there would be 
teasing later; I would *have* to set my younger brother straight.

     The three of us went inside the mission house, where everyone was 
drinking tea.  After chatting a while, Miss Alice and David offered to 
take my parents on a tour of the mission.  I wanted to accompany them, 
but Miss Alice wouldn't allow it.  

     "Dr. MacNeill let you get out of bed, but I don't think he intends 
for you to be traipsing all over the Cover for a while yet."

     Left alone, I wondered what I would do until they returned.  I 
considered going to the kitchen to talk to Ida, but thought the better 
of it; she never liked to be disturbed while she was cooking.  Finally I 
decided to read.  I sat on the sofa and sipped a hot cup of coffee.  
After a few minutes, I heard a knock at the door.  I answered it and 
found Neil.

     "You're family's not here yet?" he asked, coming in and noting the 
empty room.

     "Oh, yes, they've been here for a while.  Miss Alice and David are 
showing them around the mission.  They should be back soon."
     Neil sat down, and I offered him some coffee.

     He nodded and took a drink.  "I went to the Coburns' today.  I'm 
worried about Bessie.  Alice or I always make her rest when we're there, 
but I know the poor girl is doing all the housework and cooking for 
Kyle. She's not made much progress in her recovery, because she's 
wearing herself out.  I've told Kyle over and over that Bessie's *got* 
to rest, but it seems as if my words go in one ear and out the other.  
He says, 'Keepin' house's wimmin's work, an' Lety's gone now, an' Bessie 
kin handle hit right fine.  Th' workin'll make 'er strong so's she kin 
take care o' me.'  I wanted to throttle him for that, and I'll admit, I 
*did* do a bit of yelling."

     Neil ran his fingers through his hair, his brow knit in agitation.  
"If they'd just listen to me sometimes, they wouldn't end up killing 
themselves and their children..."

     I wanted to say something, but I didn't know what.  I knew how 
frustrating it was to Neil when the mountain people constantly ignored 
his instructions.  I thought of the deaths I had seen in the time I'd 
been in the Cove:  Opal McHone's baby, Lundy Taylor--things that could 
have been prevented if the people had trusted the Doctor's judgement.  
It hurt Neil deeply.  I took his hand, and he smiled.  I was glad to be 
able to comfort him a little.

     "You *are* staying for supper, aren't you, Neil?"

     "If I'm still invited, I'd love to."

     "Of course you're still invited.  I know my parents want to meet 
all my friends--especially the one who took such good care of me when I 
had typhoid."


I RETIRED to my room late that night and heaved a sigh of relief.  So 
far, all had gone well with my parents' visit to the Cove--*very* well, 
in fact. 

     Father seemed to fit right in; he came back for the tour of the 
mission talking with David as if they were old friends.  He could hardly 
believe that David could have come straight to Cutter Gap from seminary 
and constructed the church as well as preach sermons on Sundays.  And 
when I introduced Father to Neil, he was very warm in his greeting.  He 
gave Neil a firm handshake and said, "I am very glad to meet you, Dr. 
MacNeill.  I can't thank you enough for taking care of my Girlie for 
me."

     At dinner there was never a lapse in the conversation, thanks to 
gather.  He was full of questions about the work at the mission and life 
in the mountains, and Miss Alice, David, Neil, and I provided him with 
voluminous information.  Father's curiosity amused Neil, who was seated 
next to me, and he leaned over and whispered, laughing, "Now I know 
where you get your inquisitiveness and enthusiasm, Miss Huddleston."

     Father was very interested in Neil.  "Pardon me, Doctor, but I 
couldn't help noticing your accent.  Are you from Scotland?"

     "No," Neil answered.  "I was born right here in Cutter Gap.  But I 
spent some time in Scotland when I attended college and medical school 
there; that's how I picked up the dialect."

     "Neil has failed to add that his ancestors came from Scotland," 
said Miss Alice, "and the story is a tale worth hearing."

     "Will you enlighten us, Doctor?" my father eagerly asked, and he 
would not be satisfied until Neil promised to tell it after dinner.  

     Father then proceeded to ask Neil all about his medical training.  
He was very impressed that Neil had left his home and gone so far away 
to pursue medicine, then come back to practice in the Cove.

     "That's sacrifice," he said, eyes glistening with approval.  My 
heart swelled.  Father liked Neil a great deal, I could tell, and I was 
*very* glad.

     Later when we were all gathered in the sitting room before a 
roaring fire, drinking coffee, Neil told the story of his ancestors.  
When he told it, it was even more real to me then when I had heard it 
from Miss Alice.  Of course, his deep, rich brogue was the perfect touch 
to a Scottish tale, but it was more than that.  THis was *Neil's* story, 
and he was so proud of his heritage; I knew he felt honored to have been 
named for his great ancestor.  He held his audience captive, and we were 
all breathless until the end, when my father said, to Neil's delight, 
"What a tale!  What a heritage!"

     I slipped my nightgown over my head, then began taking down my 
hair. Yes, tonight boded well for gaining my parents' approval of Cutter 
Gap.  At least Father seemed to approve; I was not yet sure what Mother 
thought.  She hadn't said much during the course of the evening, save a 
few questions about moonshining and feuding.  That was like Mother, 
though: sit back and observe everything with a hawk eye, then judge.  I 
would just have to wait and see how it all turned out.
**********************************************************************


Chapter:  Five
Summary:  Christy talks with her mother about the Cove; Neil gets a "fan 
club".

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

AT LAST, on the fourth day of the visit, Mother and I had a chance to be 
alone.  Father and George were out hunting with Neil.  I had laughed the 
night before when Father announced that the tree of them had planned 
such an expedition; my businessman father who had lived his entire life 
in the city was going hunting!  And though George was adventurous, his 
experience was mainly making mischief with his city friends.  I could 
not imagine who would be more frustrated by the end of the day:  the two 
very inexperienced Huddlestons or Neil, the adept hunter who was to 
instruct such inept pupils.  Still, I was glad Father had taken such an 
interest in getting to know my friends.

     "Mother," I said when the two of us were walking about the mission 
yard.  "I haven't heard much from you the past couple of days.  What do 
you think of Cutter Gap?"

     "I can see how you've grown to love it here," she replied, gazing 
at the mountains looming behind the house.  "The landscape is 
breathtaking--it makes me feel very alive."

     "That is exactly the effect it has on me." 

     "But, Christy dear, one cannot truly be happy in a place simply 
because of beautiful scenery."  She paused for a moment to collect her 
thoughts.  Mother always liked to plan out every word she was going to 
say; I often wished I had inherited that from her, for I always blurted 
out the first thing that came to mind.

     "Oh, I admit like the mission people very much.  Miss Henderson is 
so elegant and level-headed in her approach to life here, and I admire 
her very much.  Miss Grantland is a first-rate housekeeper and cook, 
too," she continued.  "And I'm quite impressed by the young reverend.  
He is a refined gentleman, and I've noticed he is very attentive to 
you..."  Mother's expression hinted that she would not be at all 
displeased if I told her I had romantic feelings for him.

     "David is very kind, and I'm proud to be *friends* with him."  I 
needed to steer the conversation away from David, or I kew I would end 
up explaining to Mother that he had proposed, and I knew she would never 
understand why I had not accepted.  "What do think of Dr. MacNeill?"

     I really wanted to know, but I hadn't meant to ask her at that 
moment.  I hoped Mother wouldn't think anything of the fact that I had 
so abruptly shifted the topic from David to Neil.

     Mother arched her brows slightly.  "Your father is fascinated by 
him, obviously," she said.  "When I first saw him, I thought he was just 
a typical back woods doctor, but I was very surprised to find how 
intelligent and well-trained he is.  I think he is an interesting 
person, but not nearly as refined as Reverend Grantland."

     That last remark put me on the defensive.  "That's not fair, 
Mother.  David grew up in the city, whereas Neil was raised here.  But 
he's very polite, and I've found that here a white collar and fancy, 
learned manners aren't really all that useful--especially to a Doctor 
who has to perform major surgeries at at any given moment, and on 
kitchen tables, too."

    A smile pulled at the corners of her mouth, but Mother quickly 
restrained it and said, almost apologetically, "I wasn't attempting to 
devalue the Doctor in any way, Christy.  I can't even imagine what it 
must be like for him to practice here, and I do admire him.  But you 
asked for my opinion, and I gave it."

     I decided to let it go.  I believed her, but though she may have 
thought highly of him as a doctor, I felt she wouldn't approve if she 
knew I was in love with a man who didn't measure up to her level of 
refinement.

     "Well, you've been to one of the mountain church services," I said, 
wishing I had been able to attend.  Neil still wouldn't let me out of 
the mission for more than a few minutes to get some fresh air.  There 
were still too many germs lurking around, he said, and a church service 
would be the best place to catch something.  "And Mis Alice took you to 
meet the Allens and the Spencers and the McHones.  What do you think of 
the people?"

     "Church was--" Mother searched for a word.  "*Different*.  Very 
lively, almost raucous at times."

     "It isn't like Asheville, Mother.  I know, it's a little bit 
shocking the first few times.  The people are lively, but they're not 
irreverent.  You see, when they celebrate, it's always energetic, so of 
course the worship services are, too.  They sing to God just as they 
are."

     "Christy," Mother said, "you don't have to be so defensive.  
Believe me, I'm not out to attack everything here, as much as you think 
I'm inclined to.  I said that the mountain worship service was 
different, not wrong.  I think that the Reverend does a wonderful job 
ministering to these people.

     "And to answer your other question, I do like the people.  They are 
gracious and kind, in a simple, honest way.  But they are so poor...and 
they don't seem very intelligent."

     "They're *very* intelligent, Mother," I said, trying not to become 
agitated with her.  It was hard, though, because she said she wasn't 
trying to attack these people, but it certainly seemed that way to me.  
I had to remind myself that Mother was reacting just like I did at 
first, in fact, she was much more gracious than I was.  "They just 
haven't had much education.  But I've never seen harder working students 
than I teach at the school."

     "I don't doubt that, Christy, for that is the way with children."  
Mother's face clouded.  "I haven't been completely honest about my 
feelings.  How can a little education change the way these children are 
brought up?  Their parents are so ignorant, they're starving, and their 
homes are filthy...

     "How do you stand it, Christy?  I've tried to see this place and 
these people objectively, as you and Miss Henderson do, but I just can't 
do it any more.  How can you stand to be here in the midst of such 
poverty and suffering and filth?  You work so hard here, and it's so 
different from what you've always known.  *How do you stand it?*" 

     "I got used to it," came my matter-of-fact reply.  "But it was 
very, very hard.  I couldn't do it myself; I tried--and failed.  Over 
and over I found myself having to face situations I'd never encountered, 
and I just wanted to run home to you and Daddy.  I wanted to be like 
Miss Alice, though, and she showed me that I had to depend on God.  When 
I started holding on to His Presence, I started getting used to the 
mountain people's way of life.  Also, the dirt didn't really seem to 
matter once I saw the joy."

     "Joy?" Mother echoed, trying to take in all I was saying.  "What 
joy could you possibly find in such a place?"

     "It doesn't make sense, I know, Mother, but there were times when 
my soul just cried out to give.  The joy was everywhere then.  It was 
sewing buttons on Mountie O'Teal's tattered jacket; in Isaak McHone's 
eyes when he heard 'Kubla Khan' and learned it by heart that day; in 
holding Little Burl Allen in my lap when I taught him how to read; 
discovering the hidden beauty of the Cove with Fairlight Spencer..."  I 
could have gone on forever.

     Mother looked right into my eyes.  "I still don't understand, 
Christy."

     I pressed her hand.  "You will, Mother.  You *will*."


GEORGE turned out to be a natural hunter, for he had, not long into the 
hunt, tracked a deer and shot it.  He came back to the mission that 
afternoon full of sixteen-year-old pride at his accomplishment.  At 
dinner he talked ceaselessly about the hunt, as if he had spent his 
whole life in the woods shooting deer.

     "It was nothing," he said casually as he told us how it happened.  
"I had the deer in my sight and fired.  It was down before it knew we 
were there."

     "Beginner's luck," said Father, laughing.  "He's never held a rifle 
in his life, and not how he only mentions tracking and shooting that one 
deer.  Later on he fired about five times at one not twenty yards away; 
the deer didn't even know we were there then, either."

    George's face turned red, but he shrugged and said, "Aw, Dad, you're 
just rubbing that in to make yourself feel better."  He addressed the 
rest of us at the table.  "He aimed his gun once and could've had a big 
one, but he lowered it and said, 'It would be a pity to take him down.'"
     Father grinned sheepishly.  "Dr. MacNeill probably won't take any 
more businessmen hunting with him; we city boys aren't very aggressive."

     "Mr. Huddleston is a good sport, though," Neil replied.  "And, 
George, when you killed a deer on your first try, I was so amazed, I 
hardly noticed you missed others.  A little practice, and you'll be the 
best hunter between here and Asheville."

     Neil winked at me across the table, while George basked in his 
praise.

     "I'm not nearly as good as Neil," said George.  "If he hadn't had 
Dad and me to worry about, he could have had every deer in the woods..."
     After the meal, I went out on the porch to think about my earlier 
conversation with Mother.  I stared out the sinking sun, only to hear a 
voice behind me.

     "Hey, Christy, why are you out here by yourself?"

     I turned around and saw the tall, athletic build of my younger 
brother.

     "You startled me," I said.  "I was just thinking."
     "About who?  The Doctor?"

     I grinned.  "The other day you seemed to think I had feelings for 
Reverend Grantland."

     "Well, I admit, at first I thought it was David because of the way 
you talked when Mom and Dad and I got here.  But then I watched you with 
Neil, and it's so obvious, Christy."

     I blushed, and he added, "Don't worry, Christy.  I won't tell, 
although someone would have to be blind not to see there's something 
between you two."

     We talked for a few more minutes; actually, George did most of the 
talking, and he raved about Neil.  Obviously, he had a new idol.  I 
remained on the porch after he had gone inside.  

     "If only Mother would feel the way about Cutter Gap as Father and 
George do," I said aloud with a sigh.

     "How do they feel about it?"  Neil had come out quietly and stood 
next to me.

     "You're always so perceptive, Doctor; surely you can see that 
they're both in awe of you," I teased him.  "George hasn't stopped 
talking about you since he heard your story the other night."

     Neil smiled.  "Well, I like him, too, and I enjoy your father's 
company."  He became serious.  "But what about your mother?"

     I told him about our talk, and he said, I think she'll come around, 
Christy.  How could she not when your father is so enthusiastic about 
everything here?"

     "It would be *very* difficult, even for Mother, who stands firm on 
her own opinion."  Then I added, with determination, "Anyway, this where 
I belong, and Mother will just have to get used to that."

     With a hearty laugh, Neil put his arm around me.  "That's my 
Christy!"  
 **********************************************************************
   

Chapter:  Six
Summary:  An important discovery is made by Christy's mother before she 
returns to Asheville.

**********************************************************************
"The Joy of the Children", Chapter Six:

MY FAMILY had been in Cutter Gap for a week, and it was their last 
night.  Mother was still torn about my staying; her mind was definitely 
made up that she did *not* like the Cove.

     "Won't you come home for a while, Christy?  It's nearly Christmas, 
and you haven't seen your relatives and friends in so long.  And it 
would be a good place for you to recuperate..."

     "Mother," I said, looking up from my lesson plans, "You know I'm 
going back to school tomorrow.  Besides, I've *been* recuperating--for 
nearly three weeks now."

     "It would just be for a little while, dear," Mother insisted.

     "I agreed to teach here, and I need to stay.  I *want* to stay, 
Mother."

     "How long, Christy?" she implored.  "How long are you going to do 
this?  How long are you going to sacrifice everything your father and I 
have given you?  When I you going to come back to the life you were born 
to live?"

     "This *is* the life I was born to live!"

     "Nonsense!" Mother spat.  "Christy, you can't possibly think you're 
going to stay and teach this school forever!"

     "Why not?" I demanded.

     "It's no life for a young lady like you!  To be stuck in such a 
place with so many people so beneath you!  You'll never find a suitable 
husband!"  She fumed for a minute, then added, "I wouldn't be *quite* so 
upset if you'd pay a little more attention to the Reverend--he's very 
taken with you, and he likely won't stay here forever, especially if he 
had a wife.  But you seem to ignore his attentions.  Christy," she 
begged.  "Please, *please* consider that there is no life for you in 
this!  Think about yourself!"  

     I was trying very hard to stay calm.  "Oh, God, give me the words," 
I prayed silently.  "Tell me what to say to her."

     "If I think about myself, Mother, I will certainly see things your 
way.  But I *can't* think about me; I can only think about the needs of 
the people here and what God wants for my life.  God has brought me to 
Cutter Gap to *give*, and when I give, when I know I am obeying the 
Lord, I am more fulfilled than I ever was in Asheville.

     "I'm not saying that I'm ungrateful for all you and Father have 
done for me; I lvoe you both very much, and you gave me the happiest 
childhood I could have had.  Every parent wants their child to be happy 
and safe and cared for, Mother, and you may not see that I could have 
any of those things here, but don't you see that *God* is taking care of 
me?  All the people you have met, this mission and all its facilities 
are proof of that.  My recovery from typhoid is proof of that.  Please, 
try to see, Mother."

     With a stricken look, Mother left my room.


AFTER BREAKFAST the next morning, I said goodbye to my parents, for they 
were to leave for El Pano later that morning, when I would be in school.

     "It's been very good to see you, Girlie," said my father, 
enveloping me in a great hug.  "I'm very proud of how you've made your 
way here.  I hope the school term goes well."

     "Thank you, Daddy.  I'll miss you a lot, and I'll write you every 
week."

     After George and I said our goodbyes, I turned ot Mother.  She 
hardly seemed to hear my words and offered me only a mecahnical kiss and 
farewell.  I felt horribly, for I badly wanted her to aprrove of my 
decisions as my Father did.

     "Well, I'm off to school.  I love you all!  Have a safe trip!"
     
     As soon as I stepped into the schoolroom, I was greeted by 
sixty-seven shining faces popping out from behind the desks, where they 
had been crouching.   "Welcome back, Teacher!"

     They had decorated the room with leaves and late-autumn 
wildflowers.  Suddenly they had all gathered around me.

     "We shorlely missed, ye, Miz Christy."

     "We thawt ye was a-never goin' t' cum back."

     "Preacher hoped us git all them thar wildflowers so's th' room'ud 
look perty fer ye."

     My eyes swam with tears of joy.  "If only Mother could see the 
children right now, then she would understand," I thought.

     Then, as I turned to look at one of the children behind me, I saw 
her--Mother--standing in the doorway.  Mountie O'Teale went over to her 
with a bunch of flowers.

     "Yer Teacher's momma, ain't ye?  Yer real perty, like Teacher.  
I'll bet yer th' nicest lady in th' world."

     "Why do you say that?"  Mother asked her.

     "'Cause yer Miz Christy's momma."  Mountie handed the flowers to 
Mother, who bend down and kissed the little girl.  She flashed be a 
beautifl smile, nodded, and walked outside.

     "Take your seats, children; I'll be back in a moment," I said, 
following her.

     "Mother!   Wait, Mother!"  I ran out to her, and she caught me in 
an embrace.  She was crying.

     "Oh, Christy, I see it now!  I see the joy!  I'm so sorry I said 
all those horrible things to you last night.  Please forgive me, 
darling!"

     "Of course I figive you!  Oh, Mother, now do you see why I have to 
stay here?"

     "Yes, I do.  I thought--and prayed--about it all last night.  I 
asked God to show me what He seemed to have shown you, and He did!"

     David pulled up in the school yard in the wagon.  

     "It's time to go, dear," Father called out to Mother.  "Are you 
ready?"

     Mother hugged me one last time.  "Goodbye, Christy.  I'll write you 
as soon as I get to Asheville!"  She ran to the wagon and George helped 
her in.  As they drove away, she turned back to me, waving and smiling.  
"I love you, Christy!"


IN THE ELEVEN MONTHS since I had come to Cutter Gap, I had never had a 
more wonderful day at school than that first one after I had typhoid.  I 
believe I waseven more excited that I was back than the children were!  

     The morning singing lasted nearly an hour, because I let the 
children pick all their favorite songs (so many, with their endless 
refrains!).  I would have been content to sing the day away, had Little 
Burl not piped, his wide blue eyes staring at me inquisitively, "Teacher 
we likes to sing'n all, but why's we been singing so long for?  Ain't 
we's got lessuns t' do?"

     I laughed.  "Thank you, Little Burl!  Teacher has been very silly 
today, but it's because I've missed you all *so much!*  But yes, we 
*do* have lessons to do!"

     The morning few by as we plunged into reading and grammar, and 
suddenly it was the "dinner spell".  It began to snow during recess, and 
of course I let the children stay out extra long to frolic in the first 
flurry of the season.  THey got up a wild game of "tag", and Zacharias 
Holt ran up to me, touched my arm, and said, with an impish grin, "Yer 
'it', Teacher," and ran away.

     I tore after him, much to his surprise.  I tagged Orter Ball 
O'Teale instead, and then he chased me down.  We continued this way, a 
student catching me, me catching another studend, who in turn tagged me 
again, sometimes a sweries of children in between.  Whle we were running 
about the schoolyard, I noticed Neil had ridden up and was watching me 
intently.  

     "Hello!"  I called to him, waving wildly.  "Come join us!"

     As the Doctor dismounted his horse, laughing, he said, "I almost 
mistook you for one of the children, Miss Huddleston; you're about the 
same size as most of them!  But I didn't know you enjoyed recess so 
much."

     I blushed and felt absolutely ridiculous.  My hair was falling in 
my face; I brushed it away and tried ot smooth out my rumpled dress.  
"What must Neil think of me?" I thought.  

     "I guess I'm getting a little carried away.  It's just that I'm so 
happy to be back, Neil!  I love teaching!"

     "Oh, this is how you teach?  Some new method you've devised or read 
about in that Danish book?" he quipped.

     I knew he was only teasing but I felt so immature.  "Great 
impression you're making, Christy," I thought.  "I'm sure Neil is very 
interested in twenty-year-old schoolteachers who behave like their 
pupils."

     "I'm not making fun, Christy," he said, sensing my embarrassment.  
"I think it's great how you interact with the children."  Instead of 
raillery, his expression was one of approval.  "I really admire your 
enthusiasm--and *you*."

     Our gazes locked, and I felt my heart swell.  Suddenly I became 
very aware that I was being watched.

     *The children!*  They had stopped playing and their full attention 
was on Neil and me.  The little ones didn't know what was going on, but 
I knew the older ones did--especially the girls; I heard giggles and 
whispers and knew tongues would wag.

     "Well," Neil said, grinning sheepishly at me.  "I have to be off 
now.  All of you have fun in the snow, and mind Miss Huddleston.  And 
don't wear her out."

     Someone said, "She be wearin' *us* out, Doc."

     "Aw, she ain't, niether," Creed Allen spoke up.  "You fixed her up 
right fine, Doc.  She got more blaze in her than a fire--been runnin' 
'round here like coons when they's 'bout t' git treed by a hound.  Miz 
Christy let us sing well nigh an hour this morning', and she's plum 
forgit 'bout spellin' t'day.  Schoolin' like this be rightly agreeifyin' 
w' me."

     "Oh, Creed, you're right," I said in my best teacher voice.  "I did 
forget about spelling.  Thank you so much for reminding me.  We'll go do 
it right now."

     A groan went up from my students.  "Now you done it, Creed," said 
Zacharias, slugging his friend playfully.  "Teacher won't be no fun no 
more.   Hit's all spellin' an' po'try an' lessun from here on out."

     Poor Creed was chided by all the boys , but he didn't seem to mind 
too much.  After all, he had Teacher's approval.  "I's glad I re-minded 
Teacher; if'n I hadn't, she might have forgit forever, and all us 
young'uns wouldn't be gettin' our proper edycashun, would we, Miz 
Christy?"  

     "Maybe not, Creed.  I was being very silly today.  Maybe I would 
have had so much fun playing with you I would have decided never to do 
lessons.  Now I won't, thanks to you," I said seriously.

     "Play all th' time'n no lessuns?!"  Creed was shocked.  "Me'n my 
big mouth!"

     "I'm just teasing, Creed,"I assured him, laughing.  "I would have 
remembered.  Now, everybody inside!"

     The children complied, and Neil commented, "I hope they'll be quiet 
enough for you to teach spelling."

     "If they're not, it's my fault for getting them so worked up at 
recess."

     "They love you for it, Christy," he said.  "But you had better get 
in there; you noticed how attentive the children were a few minutes ago, 
and we're alone now.  No telling what story those girls will start 
around the Cove.  In fact," he said, glancing over my head, "they're 
watching us right now."

     I whilred around.  Clara and Zady Spencer, Lizette Holcombe, and 
Bessie Coburn (who was looking much better since Neil scolded her father 
into letting her rest) were peeking out the doorway.

     "Girls," I called.  "Go inside!"

     "They want to be alone!"  Lizette squealed, and all of them giggled 
as they went inside.

     "I'm going now, Miss Huddleston, before you get into trouble!"  
Neil laughed and mounted Charlie.  "We'll talk another time, when there 
aren't children spying on us."

     "Will you be at church on Sunday?" I asked.

     "Aye," Neil replied with a nod.  "Do you think the congregation 
will be shocked when I walk through those doors for the first time?"

     I smiled and he continued, "The women of the Cove will have a lot 
to chew on, Christy, when the girls tell them we talked alone and when I 
go to church.  But I'd *really* best be off now; the smallest O'Teale 
girl's had a bad cough, I hear.  Have a good afternoon, Teacher!"

     As I walked down the aisle ot the front of the schoolroom, titters 
of laughter spread from girl to girl.  I tried to ignore the giggling 
and started writing the week's spelling words on the blackboard.   

     "Miz Christy?" asked Clara.

     "Yes, Clara?"

     "We's jest wond'rin', did Doc MacNeill come a-courtin' jest then, 
Teacher?"

     I was mortified, and I felt my face grow red and hot.  "Of course 
not!  The Doctor and I are friends--" I was interrupted by more laughter 
and knowing glances from my older pupils, boys included.  

"--Dr. MacNeill was on his way to see some patients, and he just 
happened to stop by to see how I was doing--to make sure I was feeling 
all right on my first day back at school."

     "Lookit her blushin' red as a rose!"  Lizette squealed to Bessie.  
"She be sweet on Doc!"

     "Hesh up, Lizette," Sam Houston sanapped from across the room.  
"We's don't want t' be hearin' no carryin' on 'bout no courtin'.  
'Sides, Miz Christy doesn't a-low no courtin' durin' school.  Ain't that 
right, Teacher?"

     "Yes, Sam Houston," I sighed, grateful for his remark.  But Lizette 
was not to be so easily dissuaded.

     "I heared my momma say that Doc cum t' th' mission ev'ry day t' see 
ye when ye was a-gettin' well.  That shorely sounds like courtin' t' 
me."

     "Shorely does," echoed Bessie.

     "Enough, girls," I reprimanded them.  "Yes, Dr. MacNeill came to 
see me, but I was his patient; he had to make sure I was recovering 
properly."

     "He was never at no one else's place so long as he was with ye, 
Teacher," Lizette persisted.

     At my wits' end, I decided to just ignore Lizette and begin 
teaching.  I prayed we would make it through the arithmetic hour without 
any more questions regarding my relationship with the good Doctor.  I 
had to admit, though, that the incident *was* rather funny, and I knew 
Neil and I would have a good laugh over it when I told him.  But I 
realized I would have to be very careful how I actled around the 
children; I was their example, and I had seen from Ruby Mae's young 
marriage these children didn't need any encouragement about courting.  

     Fortunately, the subject was not brought up again, but several 
times during the remainder of the day, Lizette and Bessie would whisper, 
look at me, and giggle.  And it took all my willpower not to giggle 
along with them.
********************************************************************

Chapter:  Seven
Summary:  Christy makes a new friend.  (That sounds so corny, but I hate 
summaries, because they give away the story.)

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

"The Joy of the Children" Chapter Seven 

I THOUGHT I had met everyone in Cutter Gap, but when Neil  rode into the 
churchyard the following Sunday with an older lady behind him, I 
discovered otherwise.

        “Miss Huddleston,” he said, approaching me, the lady holding onto his 
arm.  “I don’t believe you’ve met my Aunt, Hattie McHabe.”

        “I’m very pleased to meet  you, ma’am,” I said, holding out my hand to 
her.  Strangely, she did not shake it,  as if she did not see it; but 
Neil took her hand an placed it in mine, and she smiled and squeezed it 
tightly. 

         “You kin call me Hattie,” she said sweetly, and I noticed her drawl 
was much softer than many of the mountain people’s.  “I’ve wanted to 
come to meetin’ and to see you somethin’ fierce, but I been laid up at 
home for a while now---been sickly since last winter.  My nephew’s told 
me all about you, and if you’re half as nice as he makes you sound, I 
think we’ll git along real well. Might as well say that though I’m blind 
and can’t see you, I know what you look like; jest wish I could see them 
big, beautiful blue eyes he talked about.”

        I looked at Neil questioningly, and he colored a little bit and grinned 
sheepishly at me.  “She asked me to describe you.”  

        I smiled and asked Miss Hattie if she would like to sit with me during 
the service.  

        “I would,” came her gentle reply.  “Yer mighty kind, Miss . . . May I 
call you by yer front name?  It’s such a sweet ’n’ friendly name, I’d 
like to use it---if’n you don’t object.”

          Already I liked Neil’s aunt.  She was several inches taller than me 
and very slender.  Her face was fresh and had very few wrinkles, and her 
eyes were deep grey-blue.  I could not see her hair, for she was bundled 
up in a dark blue hooded cloak.  Something about her seemed so peaceful 
and content and warm, and though I had just met her, I found myself  
aching to know her better.

        The three of us went inside together, and after he had helped his aunt 
to sit, Neil stepped across the aisle to the men’s side of the church.  
Just as he had guessed, the faces of those who were also coming in 
registered shock at seeing him there.  Jeb Spencer came in and clapped 
him on the back.  “Glad to see, ye, Neil.  Mind if me ’n’ my boys sits 
here next to ye?”  

        I could see how encouraging this was to Neil.  He had told me that he 
and Jeb were best friends when they were boys, but when he had come back 
from medical school, their relationship had never been quite the same.  
Jeb seemed to be reinitiating their friendship, and Neil was delighted.

        Shortly, the service began.  As we sang the hymns, I found that Miss 
Hattie was a wonderful singer.  She never stopped smiling, and I noticed 
that though she was blind, her eyes saw something beautiful which was 
reflected in them.  

        “You have a lovely voice,” I whispered to her after David instructed us 
to sit. 

        “Ain’t nothin’ that pleases me so well as singing t’ Jesus,” she 
replied.

        After church, I stood with Neil and his Aunt in the yard.  

        “Stay and have dinner with us at the mission house,” I urged.

        Neil wavered. “Hattie might be needing to get home . . .”

        “I’ve been at home fer a long time, Neil,” she argued gently.  
“Christy’s been real friendly in askin’ us t’ stay, and I’d like to git 
t’ knowin’ her better.”

        “Well, then, we accept your kind invitation, Miss Huddleston,” Neil 
grinned.  “But are you sure it’s all right?  Ida won’t mind?”

        “We’d love to have you.”

        After lunch Miss Hattie and I went for a walk outside the mission.  

        “Have you lived in Cutter Gap all your life?” I asked her.  It was a 
silly question, but there was something about her that was so different 
than any of the other people I knew here.

        “Shorely,” she replied.  “I was born in that cabin where Neil lives.  
His daddy was my big brother.  I live nigh the Pinnacles now; moved thar 
when I was married.”

        “Do you have any other family besides Neil?”

        “All took typhoid and died  years ago,” she said sadly.  “Lost my 
husband and young’uns all together.”

        I felt a stab of pity for her.  Surely she didn’t live out in these 
mountains all alone---and blind, too!  With a perception not unlike her 
nephew’s, she added, her face aglow. “I’m not alone, Christy; Jesus is 
with me.”

        That was what it was!  That something different I had seen in Miss 
Hattie was her pure faith in Jesus!  She seemed so peaceful and joyful, 
and it was because she had a deep, intimate relationship with Him!

        “I’ve got lots of friends, too, and Neil is always lookin’ in on me.  
Real good man he is.  Like his daddy.  You don’t know how happy I was 
when he told me he found th’ Lord, Christy.  He’d been hurtin’ fer a 
long time, though he’d never talk about it t’ no one; I could see him 
hurtin’.  It was his wife that hurt him so bad.  Do you know ’bout her?”

        “Yes,” I said.  “Neil was very sad when she died.”

        “He was sad afore she died,” Miss Hattie replied, much to my surprise.  
“I hadn’t lost my sight then, and I watched.  Oh, Miz Margaret was right 
beautiful, but she didn’t look at Neil like wives look at their 
husbands.  Neil knew it, too, and it hurt him somethin’ terrible.  He 
tried t’ make her happy, but she wouldn’t have nothin’ o’ the Cove.  He 
loved her, but she wouldn’t always love him back.  ’Twas hard fer him.”  

        She lowered her voice.  “I think it was a mercy she died, Christy.  
Neil was hurtin’ so bad that she didn’t love him, and they would have 
been miserable unhappy for th’ rest o’ their lives.  He wanted that baby 
real bad, too, though she didn’t.  Oh, I’m sayin’ too much bad against 
her.  I think she loved Neil sometimes.”  She sighed.  “Not too often, 
though, and not like he needed.”

        I had never heard the story from this perspective before.  From what 
Miss Alice had told me, I had assumed that Margaret and Neil had both 
been in love.  Of course, Miss Alice had not been near Margaret when she 
had courted Neil, and she had not often seen her daughter and son-in-law 
during their marriage.  Not that I now disregarded her story; Miss 
Hattie’s just made me see it in a different light.  

        As I thought about it some more, I recalled that Miss Alice had said 
Margaret didn’t want to marry someone of whom her family would approve,  
and also that she had felt that Neil was inferior.  What could that have 
meant?  I was confused now.  Would I ever really know what Neil’s wife 
had been like?  And did he love me because I reminded him of her?  Did 
he see me as a replacement?

        “My nephew’s a different person, now,” Miss Hattie continued.  “Speaks 
to me ’bout God and things he’s read in the Bible.  Becoming a 
Christian’s the best thing that’s ever happened to him.  It was hard 
when he didn’t believe, Christy; he had all his own answers.  Now he’s 
always goin’ to the Book fer answers.  Ain’t it a wonder how Jesus 
changes people?  Jest like the song.”

        Miss Hattie sang “Amazing Grace.”  I had never heard it sung more 
beautifully or from the heart.  “That’s my  favorite song.  Jest loved 
it since I was a little girl.”  

        We talked for a long time, and I felt as though I had known Neil’s aunt 
my entire life.  Already she was an intimate friend.  Miss Alice and 
Neil came out and met us in the yard.  

        “You two must have really hit it off,” Neil said with a smile, “to have 
stayed out talking in the cold for so long.  Didn’t I tell you Christy 
was nice, Hattie?”

        “Right glad to know her,” Miss Hattie answered.  “I hate t’ leave here; 
it’s been a fine day, and I haven’t talked much to Miss Alice.”

        “Why don’t thee come in and have a hot cup of tea, Miss Hattie?” Miss 
Alice suggested.  “It would warm you up before you and Neil ride back to 
your cabin, and we could visit.”

        “I’d like that.”  

        As the two women walked back to the mission house, Neil asked, “So what 
do you think of my Aunt?”

        “She’s delightful!” I cried, as we began to walk towards the edge of 
the mission property.  “So sweet, yet so strong---such a godly woman!”

        “That she is.  I’m glad you like her; she gets lonely sometimes, though 
she never complains.  You’re just the person to suit her.”

        “You seem to be very close to her,” I observed.

        “Aye.  We’re all that’s left of the MacNeill clan in Cutter Gap.  I 
admit that our relationship is even closer  lately---since I accepted 
the Lord.  She’s really encouraged me to read my Bible.”

        “Oh!” I said.  “She can’t read it for herself since she’s blind!”  

        “She read it so many times before she lost her sight, Christy,” Neil 
said with a grin, “she nearly has it memorized.  But the last couple 
times I’ve been to see her, I’ve read to her.  I think she’d like it if 
you could visit her, though.”

        “I will,” I said.  “How did she lose her sight?”

        “Trachoma,” Neil replied.  “She’d been fighting it for a while but 
didn’t go blind till about four years ago.  It happened right on top of 
the typhoid epidemic that took her husband, her children, and her two 
infant grandchildren.  I wasn’t able to understand how she could have 
such a firm belief in God with all that happened to her; I had firmly 
settled inside myself that if there was a God, which I doubted, He 
couldn’t possibly be good and loving, or He wouldn’t have let such 
misery come to someone like Aunt Hattie.  Of course, I was also angry 
over Margaret’s death at the same time.”

        “I have never heard you speak about your wife before,” I said, “except 
when I wore her dress that day.”

        Neil nodded.  “You’re right.  But I’m sure Alice has told you all about 
it.”  

        “Miss Alice and Miss Hattie have both told me about her, though I’m not 
sure what to make of it.” 
                      
    “Well, it wasn’t romantic, whatever you may think.”

        “I must admit that I have thought it romantic---in a tragic sense, but 
something Miss Hattie said has caused me to wonder.  Neil, were you and 
Margaret---happy?

        A reluctant look came into Neil’s eyes as he answered, “We were both 
young and rebellious, and we had no business getting married.  Margaret  
was intelligent, beautiful, and she had a mind and will of her own; she 
was going to live her life the way she wanted to, free from everybody 
else’s rules.  I was going to be a physician in the back woods were I 
had grown up---definitely not the place for a woman like Margaret..  
There was no glamour, no artistry, no intellect here to suit her taste.  
She was miserable from the day I brought her to Cutter Gap.  I had to be 
away so often, and she grew lonely and irritable.  We often quarreled.  
We did have some happy moments, but I don’t think I can say that overall 
our marriage was a happy one.”

        I didn’t know what to say.

        “It wasn’t meant to be, Christy,” he continued.  “I just wish I had 
seen that from the beginning.”  Neil stopped walking and looked me 
straight in the eye.  “You’ve thought about her a lot, haven’t you?  

Why?  Why are you so curious about Margaret?”

        “Well,” I began, feeling uneasy.  “Partly because when we know what our 
friends have gone through, we understand them better . . .”

        “So you’re saying you don’t understand me?” 

        “No, that’s not what I meant.”  I sat down on a log that lay in the 
field.  “I just . . . I’m sorry.  It’s none of my business.”  How am I 
ever going to know what he feels about Margaret---and me---if he doesn’t 
want to talk about it?  Clearly, he wants to avoid the subject as much 
as possible.

        “I’m not angry with you for asking, Christy,” he replied softly, 
sitting down next to me.  “As my most dearest and most trusted friend, 
you have the right to know about my past, and it is not fair---or 
right---for me to hide anything from you.  I just feel that there’s 
something behind your questions---something you want to know but won’t 
come right out and ask.”

        As always, Neil MacNeill had seen right through me, and I felt so 
childish and stupid.  I looked down at my feet, but Neil lifted my chin 
so my eyes met his.

        “You can ask me---don’t be afraid.”

        I mustered up all my courage.  “Do I remind you of Margaret?” 

        “You?  Remind me of Margaret?” he seemed shocked.  “What would make you 
ask such a question?”

        “Miss Alice said she saw her daughter in me.  I wondered if you...”

        “Saw you as a replacement?”  Neil finished for me, an expression of 
utmost compassion on his face.  He drew me to him and kissed my hair.  
“Now I understand why you wanted to know about her.  Sometimes, Christy, 
Alice sees what she wants to see in people.  Or maybe she sees in you 
what Margaret might have been.  Still, I would not say that you remind 
me of her.  You resemble her a little; I did notice that.  She had a 
fire like you, but it was born of rebellion; she never possessed your 
compassion or joy or maturity. 

        “She never, never respected me like you do, but I was so infatuated 
with her, I was blind to that until after we were married.  She had 
often boasted about her rebellion against Alice and how she wanted to 
have nothing to do with her.  I  saw her rebellion only as the result of 
her free spirit, and it never dawned on me that Margaret might see me as 
a way to run away from home or that she might hope her mother would 
disown her for marrying a man like me.   In fact, she saw me as the same 
kind of inferior human she really thought herself to be; that, I 
discovered in one of our many quarrels---during her pregnancy, I think 
it was.  I believe she said, ‘The world has enough problems without a 
hillbilly and  a bastard child bringing their own miserable offspring 
into it.’ ”

        How humiliated he must have been!  I was so angry that a woman could 
have treated Neil with such disregard for his worth.  

        “Eventually Margaret grew so distant from me, there was nothing I could 
do to win back her affections.  Our last few months together were 
miserable, and when she lay dying from typhoid and premature childbirth, 
she could not---would not---fight for her life.”

         How much Neil had suffered because of Margaret!  How had he been able 
to endure her selfishness, her hatefulness?  My heart ached for him.  

“I’m so sorry, Neil,” I whispered, on the verge of tears.

        “Margaret was just as hurt by me as . . . as I was by her.” 

        “Don’t blame yourself, Neil,” I said.

        “For nearly four years I blamed God, and even then I could not  deny 
that I made a lot of mistakes which ultimately hurt Margaret.  But you 
know what, Christy?  It doesn’t hurt like it used to.  Do you know why?”

        “Why?”

        “God,” he said matter-of-factly, and I understood exactly what he 
meant.  “When I gave Him my life, he gave me  peace inside.  He told me 
that the time for guilt and mourning was past and now it was time to 
live again---in Him.  But there is another reason, too.”

        Neil took my hands and looked deeply into my eyes.  “About a year ago 
God sent a young schoolteacher with dreams and visions to Cutter Gap.  
We butted heads in the beginning, but I could not help but admire her in 
spite of myself.  She respected me and believed in me, and she has 
opened up all the places of my heart I had locked away.  She has been my 
dearest friend, and now I’m hopelessly in love with her.”  He leaned 
forward and kissed my lips gently.  “You must never, never think that 
you are only a replacement, Christy.  I love you, as I have never loved 
before.”

        I was so happy I was about to burst.  Neil loved me!  I realized that 
deep down I had always known that, but it was so meaningful to hear it 
from his own lips.  He loved me---Christy Rudd Huddleston!  I threw my 
arms around his neck and cried, “I love you, too, Neil!”


THAT EVENING, I was downstairs, working on some lesson plans, when I 
heard Ben Pentland’s loud drawl outside.

        “Hallo!  U-nited Sates Ma-il!!!”  

        Miss Ida opened the front door, and he came in.  “Evenin’.  Got a 
letter for Miz Christy---cum Ashe-ville way.”  

        I took the letter from him and smiled obligingly.  “Thank you, Mr. 
Pentland!  I’ve been expecting a letter from my mother.  Would you like 
some coffee to warm you up before you go back out in the cold?”

        “Reckon I would,” he said, seating himself. 

        David came in and joined us. “Hello, Ben.  Kind of late to be 
delivering mail, isn’t it?”

        “Aw, not much.  Jest got a late start this mornin’ and stopped at th’ 
Spencers’.”  He eyed me curiously.                      “Is there something you wanted to 
ask, Mr. Pentland?”

        “Well, yes, I reckon thar is.  Word’s goin’ ’round that Doc MacNeill 
’tended meetin’ this mornin’.”

        “Yes,” I replied.  “He did.”

        “He never took no stock in religion afore,” the mailman commented, 
wide-eyed. 

        “The Doctor has become a Christian,” David replied.  

        Mr.  Pentland nodded.  “Wall, guess thar’s somethin’ in that.”  Then he 
added, slyly, “Jeb’s girls say Doc’s been courtin’ Teacher.  That be 
true?”

        “Do you believe all the stories little girls tell you?” I asked, taking 
his empty coffee cup and walking toward the kitchen to conceal my 
blushes.

        “S’pose it ain’t none of my business,” he said, rising and walking to 
the door.  He winked at me as he exited.

        “The gossip people start,” I laughed, going back into the living room.  
“Your sermon was good this morning, David.  I would have said something 
earlier, but I haven’t had the chance.”

        “Well, I wanted to talk to you, but I also didn’t want to interrupt 
your conversation with Miss Hattie,” David replied casually.

        “I enjoyed getting to know her.  Did you and Neil talk?”

        David replied teasingly, “He’s certainly the man of the hour.”  Then he 
added, seriously, “We did talk---as long as you and Hattie did.  He’s 
certainly a changed man.  I’m ashamed to think that I had given up on 
him.”

        I smiled.  “I’m glad you two are becoming friends---he needs strong 
Christian friends.”

        “You seem to be fulfilling that need very well,”  he bantered.

        “You know what I mean, David,” I said, blushing.  I opened the letter 
from my mother.
        
Dear Christy,
        I’m sorry for not writing you sooner, but I was afraid I would not 
rightly express myself, so I waited until I had just the right words.
I suppose I should just start from the beginning.  When you first left 
Asheville to teach in Cutter Gap, I was disappointed and even a bit 
angry, though I tried not to show it.  I did not see anything other than 
that my only daughter was giving up virtually everything to find 
spiritual fulfillment.  My only way of coping with that was to compare 
you with the great missionaries I have always heard and read about and 
the same sacrifices they had made.  I would boast to mylady friends 
about my wonderfully mature daughter who was seeking to serve the least 
of God’s people no matter what the cost and how she was fulfilled by it.  
How pathetic that I myself didnot truly believe my own words!

        When we came to see you,  I fully intended for you to return with us.  
Surely, I reasoned, near death from typhoid fever would convince you to 
come back to the civilized world.  I thoughtthat even if you were 
reluctant, I could still force you to come home since I am your mother.  
Either way, so I thought, I would win.  Little did I know I would not be 
fighting my daughter,but God instead!

        You know the rest of the story, Christy.  I finally understood the joy 
you spoke of so often and the joy I had seen in your countenance during 
our fortnight with you when I watched you with the children---those 
blessed, blessed children!  That Mountie O’ Teale!  Now I know why sheis 
so special  to you!What joy I receive in telling you how glad I am that 
you have chosen to follow God’s path!As much as I miss you and want to 
give you more in the material sense, I am happy that you aredoing the 
right thing and that God gives you peace in joy because of your 
obedience!  Let me add,however, as I must, as a mother, I would be even 
more at ease knowing that you were married to a good, loving man who 
would take special care of my daughter!  I’m just teasing, love!  Don’t 
feel pressured by a mother’s wishes!  And though I hinted about the 
minister, I think maybe you’re a little more taken with a certain doctor 
. . . Mothers don’t miss a thing, Christy!  But I like your Dr. 
MacNeill, and so does your father.

        Before I close, Christy, I want to leave you with a Scripture the Lord 
showed me, Hebrews 12: 2:  “Looking unto Jesus, the Author and Perfecter 
of our faith; who for the joy set before Him endured the cross, 
despising its shame, and is set down at the right hand of the throne of 
God.”   
              
        “For the joy set before Him”---I just love that part!  You have lived 
that out Christy!  Just remember that, dear, as you go from day to day 
in Cutter Gap.  I know you do have struggles there, no matter how well 
you endure them.   But you have found joy in the children, and in God!
 
        The rest of the letter consisted of brief news about George, my father, 
and Asheville life.  I finished it, and greatly encouraged by Mother’s 
words, I folded the letter and tucked it into my Bible.  Then I heard 
that voice that I loved so well, the one that called to my soul:   Fix 
your eyes on Me and the joy I have for you!  See how I have taken care 
of everything when you have obeyed Me and trusted My wisdom?  

        Oh, yes, Lord!  I thought.  How wonderful are Your ways and Your works!  
You are wonderful, God!
*********************

Chapter:  Eight
Summary:  A lost sheep is found.

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

"The Joy of the Children", Chapter Eight:

ONE AFTERNOON  about a week before Christmas, David and I were in the 
schoolroom, sorting through crates of beautiful new books, sent by 
Father as a Christmas gift to the children, when a very pale and 
dazed-looking Opal McHone stumbled up the schoolhouse steps and stopped 
in the doorway.   

        Instantly I was at her side.  “Opal!  What’s wrong?”

        “Oh, Miz Christy,one o’ them law-men was jest at my place---give me 
this here slip o’ paper and said I needed ’t be in Lyleton this comin’ 
Tuesday.  I couldn’t quite make hit out what with all them fancy words, 
but I gather hit’s somethin’ ’bout Bird’s Eye Taylor.”

        I took the paper from her, and as I examined it, David read over my 
shoulder.  “Dear God,” I whispered, clapping my hand over my mouth.  
“David, he’s turned himself in---true to his word.”

        Opal’s brown eyes were wide.  “Turned hisself in!  I was afeared he’d 
do that---I telled him not to, that he didn’t have t’ go to jail jest 
'cause his boy killed Tom, but he don’t pay me no mind.  But why’d them 
marshals send word t’ me?”

        “Bird’s Eye has to undergo a trial, and since it was your husband he’s 
confessed to killing,” David said with a deep breath, “you have to go 
testify---tell them what you know about what happened.”

        Apparently Opal still did not completely understand, so David went on.  
“You are the closest person to the situation.  They can’t convict Bird’s 
Eye of killing Tom unless someone who can prove him either guilty or 
innocent speaks in court.”

        “I didn’t see what happened, though.  No one did.  But I know Bird’s 
Eye didn’t do it, and it’s wrong for him t’ be locked up.  Kin I go to 
this court and tell them marshals that?  Will they jest believe me if’n 
I says his boy did it?”  Opal looked to me imploringly, and I to David, 
who knew much more about the judicial system than I did.

        “You can tell them you don’t wish to press charges against Bird’s Eye.”
        “That’ll be what I do, then.  Bird’s Eye ain’t goin’ t’ be locked away 
if’n I kin holp it.  Not when he ain’t done nothin’ wrong.”

        “I know he’s innocent, too, Opal---in the killing that is,” David said.   
“But what about before Tom died?  Bird’s Eye was involved with the 
moonshiners who were hunting Tom before he was killed.  He can still 
be---should be---tried for that.”

        Opal shook her head fervently and said with more strength than I had 
ever known her to possess, “No.  I telled Bird’s Eye I had forgive him, 
and it jest wouldn’t be right for me t’ ‘press charges’ or whatever that 
was ye called hit. ’Twouldn’t be forgivin’ if’n I jest half-way did hit 
now, would hit?   How will Bird’s Eye ever have a chance t’ be a good 
man if’n none o’ us who has faith in God’ll stand up fer him?”

        I smiled.  This was the biggest demonstration of forgiveness---and 
courage---I had witnessed.  “Opal,” I said, embracing the woman.  
“Choosing to forgive someone who has had a hand in doing great harm to 
us is one of the most difficult things for people to do.  I just want 
you to know that though not everyone will understand your choice, God 
does, and you are honoring and obeying Him by forgiving Bird’s Eye.  I 
believe that He is using you to change people’s hearts in Cutter Gap.”

        “Oh, Miz Christy,” Opal sighed.  “I been prayin’ fer Bird’s Eye.  D’ ye 
think maybe he might---might turn from his sinnin’ ways?  Jest ’cause I 
forgive him? ’Twould be the blessedest thing.”

        “Nothing is more possible,” I said, embracing her again.  

        “Opal,” David said, clearing his throat, “I understand your feelings, 
and I agree that you can’t just forgive Bird’s Eye for some of the 
wrongs he’s done you and your family, but the law is the law, and he 
broke it.”

        The two pairs of brown eyes met, David’s torn over what was right and 
what was just, Opal’s strong and sure about what she knew she must do.  
David knew he could not fight anymore.  “Tell you what, Opal.  Come to 
the mission house tonight, and we’ll talk about this with Miss Alice.  
She’ll know what to do.”

        Slowly, Opal nodded.  “Shorely, Preacher.”  She walked to the door, and 
I went with her, and just caught her low murmur, “But Miz Henderson will 
be thinkin’ the same as me.”  A satisfied smile was on her lips.

        Miss Alice was behind Opal all the way.  She also asked Bob Allen to 
testify since he had heard the fatal shot and seen Lundy running away, 
and he agreed, eager to end to old feud between the Taylors and the 
Allens.  Finally David came to see that he needed to completely forgive 
Bird’s Eye, too, and after that he was completely in favor of our quest 
to redeem Bird’s Eye.  In fact, he suggested that those of us at the 
mission have a prayer time for Bird’s Eye each evening.

        “I don’t understand it, Christy, but I don’t hate Bird’s Eye anymore.  
He tried to kill me, and he’s caused so many problems for us, but I 
don’t hate him.  And I just have this feeling that God’s going to get 
ahold of him.”

          Two days later Miss Ida and I stood in the mission yard as Miss 
Alice, David, Bob and Opal were about to leave for Lyleton.  
        “Are you sure you two will be all right here while we’re gone?” David 
asked.

        “Yes, David, we’ll be fine.”

        “No one will bother us,” said Ida, “Bird’s Eye will be with you, after 
all.”

        David raised his eyebrow at his sister’s sarcasm.  “Hopefully we won’t 
have to worry about him bothering anyone even after his gets back.  Keep 
him in your prayers, ladies.”

        “We will,” I promised.  “And we shall remember all of thee, as well.”  
I embraced Miss Alice and Opal, then they climbed in the wagon and rode 
away.  I watched them disappear into the horizon, then turned to get 
ready for school.  

        “You know, Christy,” Ida commented, “I know the Lord is going to work 
in this situation.  I just wonder what in the world He’s going to 
do---and how He’s going to do it.”
        
        Friday afternoon during recess, the wagon pulled up into the mission 
yard.  Only Miss Alice and David were on it, and I was confused.  “Where 
are Opal and Bob---and Bird’s Eye?”  I asked, running up to them.

        “At their respective houses,” Miss Alice replied, offering no further 
explanation about the past three days.  

        I was impatient.  “What happened?  I mean, it’s obvious that Bird’s Eye 
was released since he’s at his cabin, but how did it go?  Did he---”
        “Did he become a Christian?”  David finished with a grin.  “No, not 
yet.  But we talked a lot about forgiveness.  A seed’s been planted, 
Christy, and I know the Lord is working in his heart.”

        I wanted to find out every detail, but it was time to resume class.  I 
would just have to find out later.  My curiosity, however, drove me to 
distraction, and I could hardly focus on what I was teaching.  I was 
grateful when it was time for the children to go home.  

        I was erasing the blackboard, when a knock at the door startled me.  
Neil came in, his face aglow.  

        “Hello,” I said with a smile.  It had been a couple of days since I had 
seen him, and my heart gave a little flutter.  “How are you?”
        “I’m fine,” he replied. 

        “Something happened; what is it, Neil?” 

          He looked around the room for a moment, then said,  “Christy, what 
would you say if I told you I just had the opportunity---the 
privilege---to lead a man to Christ?”

        “Neil, that’s wonderful!” I cried, grasping his hands.  “Absolutely 
wonderful!  It wasn’t long ago that you became a Christian, but  already 
you’re so changed and leading others to Him!”

        Neil gazed down at me, laughing.  “You are ever enthusiastic, Miss 
Huddleston!  I’m glad, but lass, I haven’t yet told you who it was!”

        “Who was it then?”

        “Bird’s Eye Taylor.”

        My jaw nearly fell to the floor.  “Bird’s Eye!  How---he just got back 
from Lyleton a few hours ago, and I talked to David; he said Bird’s Eye 
hadn’t made a decision, though he was very receptive to what they had to 
say.  What happened, Neil?”

        “Well, it’s kind of a long story,” he began.  “Do you really want to 
hear it all?”

        I looked at him as if he must be crazy, and he laughed again.  “I’m 
just teasing, Christy!  What, do you think I would deprive you of a 
single detail?  I know how you like to know everything you can 
about---everything!”  

        We went and sat down on a front row bench, and Neil began his story.
        “I finished making my rounds early this afternoon and went back to my 
cabin.  I was back in my laboratory, when someone knocked on my front 
door.  I was a little perplexed, because most people who come way out to 
my place have some sort of medical emergency, and they pound, not knock.  
I was really surprised to find Bird’s Eye standing on my doorstep.  

        “I asked him if he had just gotten back from Lyleton, and he nodded.  
Christy, In all the years I’ve known Bird’s Eye, I have never seen him 
so subdued.  I said I was glad that he had been released, but he 
interrupted with, ‘I cum t’ talk with ye, Doc.’ 
 
        “There was a pleading, an urgency in his eyes I couldn’t ignore, so I 
told him to come in.  We sat there in silence for  a few minutes, when 
finally he said, ‘I reckon ye know that the only way I got out’n that 
jail was on account o’ Opal and Bob Allen forgivin’ me.  They wouldn’t 
let them law men hold me even though my boy done a lot o’ harm t’ thar 
clans.  An’ I done wrong to ’em a lot myself.    I telled ’em  that they 
shoulda left me t’ be punished fer all my sinnin’ ways, that sinners 
like me couldn’t be saved and they’uns shouldn’t try.  They only kept 
sayin’ they forgive me and wanted me t’ cum back home---even Preacher 
and Miz Henderson.  I wanted t’ say---t’ say I was sorry fer all I’d 
done to ’em, but I feeled thar was someone else I needed t’ speak to 
’bout hit first---somebody I needed t’ ’pologize to afore I said 
anythin’.

        “ ‘I ain’t talkin’ ’bout you, Doc.  I jest be wantin’ t’ know---I 
heared you been goin’ t’ meetin’.  How’d ye turn from yer sinnin’ ways?’

        “I told Bird’s Eye that I had confessed my sins to God and asked Him to 
forgive me, that I told Him I needed and wanted Him to be my Savior.  
‘Bird’s Eye,’ I said, ‘Do you want Him to be your Savior?’

        “He nodded and said that was exactly what he wanted, so I got out my 
Bible and showed him those verses in Romans that Alice showed me.  
Christy, the most amazing thing was that Bird’s Eye got down on his 
knees, and while he prayed, he wept.  I don’t think he’s ever shed a 
tear---not even when he was a wee babe.  But when he lifted his face, 
all the hardness and cold was gone, and he was glowing!  

        “He didn’t stick around my place long.  ‘I’m obleeged, Doc,’ he said, 
then got up and went to the door.  ‘I got some things I need t’ tend 
to.’  

        “As he walked across my yard, it occurred to me to invite him to church 
on Sunday, so I called after him.  He glanced over his shoulder and 
nodded in response, then continued on his way.”

        “Praise God!  Bird’s Eye Taylor is a Believer!” I cried, ecstatic after 
hearing what had taken place.  “Oh, Neil! I know I’ve used the word a 
lot, but it’s so wonderful!”

        “That’s the best word I can think of  to describe it,” he replied. 

        “How did it feel to lead him to the Lord?”

        “Well, it wasn’t me, Christy, not at all.  Only God could have worked 
in Bird’s Eye’s heart.  He knew what he needed before he came to me.  If 
I had known he was coming, I would have tried to plan what I was going 
to say to win him over, but as it was, when the time came, the words 
were on my tongue.  It was truly God.  And rightly so.  What’s that 
verse say about ‘not by works, so that I might boast’?   Salvation is 
always by the grace of God.”

        My eyes brimmed with tears as I witnessed what an extraordinary work 
the Lord was doing in Neil’s life.  What a man He was making!  I voiced 
this to Neil, and we embraced.  “Come on,” I said, rising and tugging 
his hand.  “Let’s go tell everyone  the good news!”

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


Chapter:  Nine
Summary:  Something happens at a church service.
Disclaimer:  "Christy", by Catherine Marshall, belong to the LeSourd 
family.  I am in no way seeking profit or credit for the characters of 
either the novel or the television series, "Christy".  I am continuing 
the story for my own amusement.  Also, any similarities to the story 
lines of other fanfictions are purely coincidental.

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

"The Joy of the Children", Chapter Nine


SUNDAY MORNING  I was up with the sun, even though I had lain awake long 
into the night.  There was just so much to ponder.  Would Bird’s Eye be 
at church?  Had he spoken to anyone since he went to Neil?  David had 
gone to Bird’s Eye’s cabin to talk with the new believer, but he found 
it vacant.   If Bird’s Eye did come to church, what would happen?  Would 
people accept him?  Would the Taylor-Allen feud be over?  Bob had 
forgiven him, but what about fiery, impatient Ault?  

        I tossed and turned, trying to answer these questions before the dawn, 
to no avail.  I would never have been able to sleep at all, had it not 
been for a sudden quiet that enveloped me.  

        "Isn’t it I who saved Bird’s Eye?  Don’t you think I know what’s going 
to happen?  Why are you worrying, Christy?  Leave it to Me.  I know 
Bird’s Eye’s heart.  I know Ault’s heart.  I know everyone’s hearts.  I 
created each person in Cutter Gap.  I have ordained every second of 
their lives.  Leave it all to Me!"

        So, when I awoke, I knelt by my bed and prayed.  I thanked God for what 
He had done for Bird’s Eye and asked that His Spirit would move today.  
For over an hour I kneeled there and prayed and listened.  

        The church was packed that day.  I scanned the crowd as David led the 
opening hymns, but there was no sign of Bird’s Eye.  He’s probably just 
late, I thought, but I had a strange feeling inside.  Something was 
going to happen.

        “Lordamercy!” Ruby Mae Beck’s cry interrupted the first sentence of 
David’s sermon.  “Bird’s Eye Taylor’s drivin’ into the yard with a wagon 
full o’ moonshine jugs!  But look-a-here!  He’s a-shaved and  wearin’ 
clean clothes!”

        David leaped from the pulpit and ran down the aisle to the front steps 
just before the entire congregation crowded out to see what would 
happen.  I pushed myself through the crowd and found myself next to 
Neil, whose gaze was fixed on Bird’s Eye.

        “What is the meaning of this, Mr. Taylor?” Miss Alice inquired.  

        “I know hit looks bad, but I cum here t’ speak my piece, if’n hit’s all 
right with ye,” Bird’s Eye replied mildly.

        The former nodded, and the latter continued in a loud, clear voice:

        “I know yer all a-wondrin’ why I cum t’ meetin’ this mornin’.  Yer also 
prob’ly thinkin’ I’m drunk.  Well, I ain’t drunk; I’m more sober’n the 
day I was born.  I’m here t’ tell ye all I’m a Christian now, and thar 
be two things I want t’ do right now.  First be this.”

        Bird’s Eye climbed over the seat into the  wagon bed, uncorked a bottle 
of whiskey, and emptied the contents onto the snow-covered mission yard.  
Everyone watched in silence as he poured out every last drop of 
moonshine.  

        “I swear I’ll never drink hit nor make hit agin.  Burned the still down 
last night.  Moonshine is the devil’s drink, like Preacher said.  I also 
want t’ ’pologize fer all the trouble I been the cause of here.  I been 
bitter t’ all th’ Allens and caused ye a heap o’ pain, and also t’ the 
McHones.  I been pison mean t’ the mission folks, too.  Shot at 
Preacher, tried t’ break into th’ mission, burnt the pul-pit, and 
sheared th’ horse.  I did a right poor job o’ raisin’ my boy, too.  All 
the trouble he gave Miz Christy I take blame fer.  Boy didn’t know no 
better.  Hit’s my doin’. 

        “Funny thing is, even afore I ’pologized or got saved, Bob Allen, Opal, 
Preacher, Miz Henderson, and Miz Christy all said they forgive me and 
got me out’n th’ Lyleton jail.  They taked care o’ my boy when he took 
sick, though he had shot Tom.  Kept on talkin’ ’bout forgivin’ and God, 
and I jest felt compelled t’ think hard on hit.  So I talked t’ Doc 
since he’s edycated and a mountain man and changed his sinnin’ ways.  I 
decided thar was somethin’ t’ this God business, so I prayed, and hit’s 
done me right good.  I feel like a new man, and I feel God inside o’ me.  

        “So, I jest felt it was fittin’ t’ tell ye all ’bout hit an’ hope ye 
all kin forgive me, if’n ye be believin’ me.” 
 
        The churchyard was absolutely silent and still.  I looked from person 
to person, trying to read reactions, but all I saw was the steam made 
when someone exhaled.  Still I forgot that the mountain people buried 
their emotions deep inside.  We stood there like that for what seemed 
like hours, no one saying a word.  Didn’t anyone care what Bird’s Eye 
had just done? I thought I was going to scream, when Neil moved from the 
crowd and laid a hand on Bird’s Eye’s shoulder.  

        “I can tell you all this man is sincere.  As Bird’s Eye said, I was 
with him when he asked God to forgive him of his sins, and it was 
genuine.  Immediately, I could see that he was changed.  Look at him!  
Don’t you all see it ?”

        Bob Allen went to Bird’s Eye with and outstretched hand.  “I see hit.”  
Bird’s Eye nodded and gripped Bob’s hand.  

        “So do I,” said David, joining the group.  Jeb Spencer and Kyle Coburn 
followed, and soon most of the men of the Cove were gathered around 
Bird’s Eye, smiling, clapping him on the back, shaking hands.  I looked 
at Ault Allen, who was still standing on the steps.  With a terrible 
expression and balled fists, he stared at the ground, kicking at a 
pebble with the toe of his boot.  Slowly, he unclenched his fists.  He 
looked up, straight at Bird’s Eye, and walked down the steps.  

        “I’ll forgit ’bout this feudin’, on account o’ Bob’s seein’ fit t’, an’ 
fer th’ young’uns,”  he said, choked, then fled from the church yard. 

        Though Ault said not a word about forgiveness, my soul wanted to cry 
out for joy.  The Taylor-Allen feud was over!  But then Isaak McHone 
slowly made his way to Bird’s Eye, tears streaming down from those 
almost-black eyes.  “Paw would want me t’ come,” he whispered.

          I felt a little stab of pain as I watched the boy try to forgive the 
man who had been one of his father’s pursuers.  He knelt down on the 
grown and wept so hard he shook.  Bird’s Eye crouched beside the boy and 
laid his brown hand on the blond head, just as Opal gathered her oldest 
son into her motherly embrace.  “Yer sech a good, brave boy, Isaak.  I 
don’t reckon anyone never had no finer boy.  I believe Bird’s Eye.  He’s 
a good fixer, Isaak.  A real good fixer.  But he needs all us t’ forgive 
him.”  

        Isaak’s tear stained face peered over his mother’s shoulder.  “Reckon I 
kin forgive ye, too.”
        “Not me!” shouted Uncle Bogg.  “I kin never forgit what he done t’ my 
kin.  Yer all lily-livered if ye think ye kin jest forgive ’n forgit 
jest like that!  Tom was my boy, and Bird’s Eye’s boy killed him!  He 
don’t deserve t’ be forgiven!”

        “Neither do you,” Miss Alice said, her voice calm, yet loud.  
        Please, God, I pleaded under my breath, You’ve done such a miracle 
already.  I know You can change Uncle Bogg’s heart, too.  Speak through 
Miss Alice. 

        “Neither do you, and neither do I,” she continued. “ ‘For the wages of 
sin is death.’  Yes, each of us is a sinner.  You are, Uncle Bogg, and 
so am I.  We all deserve to die for our sins.  But God’s Son died in my 
place and in yours so that we might not perish.  Think about that.  
God’s Son died for my sin.  I killed Him.  But God has forgiven me for 
that.”

        “Don’t preach t’ me, woman!”  

        “If you do not forgive Bird’s Eye, then you will be living in sin.  You 
will be separated from God, and you will nurse that grudge, and it will 
get bigger and bigger and fester like an infected sore.  It will only 
lead to more trouble, more pain than it would take to simply forgive 
this man.”

        “I said hesh up!”

        Isaak stood, wiped his tears, and took his grandfather’s hand.  “Don’t 
hang onto yer hate, Grandpappy.  It’ll start another blood feud.  
Allens’ finally ended thar feud, but it took ’em years ’n years t’ do 
hit.  Let’s not us McHones start one a-tall.  If I kin forgive him, an’ 
Momma an’ th’ Allens an’ Preacher an’ everyone an’ God, can’t ye forgive 
him, too?”

        The old squire shook his head.  “I know I should, but I jest can’t.  I 
can’t git rid o’ this hatred inside o’ me.”

        “None of us can,” David said.  “Only God can take away our iniquities 
and make us as white as snow.  Uncle Bogg, do you want to be free from 
hatred?”

        “Yes, Preacher, I shorely do.  How do I begin?”

        “Just ask the Lord.”

        Uncle Bogg bowed his head.  “Lord, I be guilty of hatin’ Bird’s Eye 
Taylor.  Take away my hatred and put forgiveness in my heart.”

        David opened his Bible.  “ ‘Put on, therefore, as the elect of God, 
holy and beloved, bowels of mercies, kindness, humbleness of mind, 
meekness, longsuffering; forebearing one another, and forgiving one 
another, if any man have a quarrel against any: even as Christ forgave 
you, so also do ye.  And above all these things put on charity, which is 
the bond of perfectness.  And the peace of God rule in your hearts, to 
the which also ye are called in one body; and be ye thankful.  Let the 
word of Christ dwell in you richly in all wisdom; teaching and 
admonishing on another in psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, singing 
with grace in your hearts to the Lord.  And whatsoever ye do in word or 
deed, do all in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God and the 
Father by Him.”

        Once again, the churchyard was silent, but this time I could feel the 
Presence of the Holy Spirit.  

        “Kin ye forgive me, Bird’s Eye?”  Uncle Bogg humbly asked.  

        “I don’t blame ye fer hatin’ me.  I’m th’ one who needs t’ ask for 
forgiveness.”

        “Ye shorely have hit,” replied Uncle Bogg, and the two men embraced.  

        Miss Hattie’s voice suddenly rang out:  “Amazing grace! how sweet the 
sound---that saved a wretch like me!”

        The rest of the congregation joined in.  “I once was lost but now am 
found, was blind but now I see.”   
                     
        Throughout the rest of the verses, I found myself before my God, 
thanking Him with all my soul for His salvation and for the work He was 
doing in the Cove.  This was such a miracle!  Tears ran down my cheeks 
as we sang the last verse:  “When we’ve been there ten thousand years, 
bright shining as the sun . . .”

        I was going to spend eternity just like this, with the people of Cutter 
Gap, praising the Lord!  Thank You, Lord, that each one of these will be 
in Your kingdom forever!  I felt a strong hand grip mine and heard 
Neil’s deep voice next to me.   “We’ve no less days to sing God’s praise 
than when we’d first begun.”

Chapter:  Ten
Summary:  Christmas in Cutter Gap.
**********************************************************************

"The Joy of the Children", Chapter Ten

ON CHRISTMAS EVE the mission hosted a “play party” for the entire Cove.  
For two days the mission people were busy preparing for the celebration. 
It took an entire day for Miss Alice, Miss Ida, and I to scrub and scour 
the mission house from top to bottom.  Early the day of the party, we 
ladies went to the kitchen to begin cooking up every scrumptious dish we 
could.  I wanted to help, but after a disastrous pie (my cooking left 
much to be desired), Ida shooed me out of her kitchen.  Aching to do 
something, I gathered up all the boarders and organized a decoration 
committee.  I bundled them all up, and we went out to look for holly and 
mistletoe and anything that would be festive.  

        When we stepped out into the snow-covered mission yard, we were 
momentarily delayed by a snowball fight, initiated by Arrowwood Holcombe 
and Isaak McHone.  After a few minutes of play, I decided we’d better 
get to work on the decorations, so we set off again, rosy-cheeked and 
panting.  

        “Hey!  Where’s everybody going?”  I turned around and waved to David, 
was coming out of his bunkhouse.  

        “We’re going to find decorations for the party!” I called to him.

        “Decorations?  Can I help?”

        “Of course!”  Suddenly, I had another idea.  “David!  Get an axe or a 
saw, and we’ll find a Christmas tree!”

        “Decorations and a tree?”  He shouted in mock desperation.  “This is 
what we get for hiring city teachers!”  But he scurried of to the barn 
and was back in a few minutes with an axe.

        “Teacher, what’s a Christmas tree?” Mountie O’Teale asked.

        “You’ve never seen a Christmas tree?” 

        The little girl shook her head, as did the other children.  

        “Well,” I said.  “A it’s a big, pretty pine tree that you cut down and 
put in your house at Christmas time.”

        “Jehosephat!”  Arrowwood cried, eyes wide.  “A tree inside?”

        “Yes.  Then you put all kinds of decorations on in---popcorn strings 
and tinsel and ornaments, paper chains, candles . . .”

        “Candles?  Real, lit candles?”  asked Wanda Ann Beck.

        “Yes, of course.” Because I had always grown up with one, it had never 
dawned on me that not everyone in the world new about Christmas trees. 
        “Don’t hit catch fire?” Dicle Holt wondered.

        “Some Christmas that’d be if yer decorations burnt yer house t’ th’ 
ground.”  Arrowwood and Isaak laughed sardonically.

        “No, they don’t catch on fire, Dicle,” I assured the boy.  “But it’s 
always safe to keep a bucket of water nearby---just in case.”

        “I think it sounds real perty,” Mountie said.  “What else goes on hit?”

        “Well,” I began, trying to think what I could possibly have  forgotten.  
“A star!  A big, shiny star goes right on the top.”

        “Kin we have a star on our Christmas tree, Teacher?”  Isaak implored.

        “We’ll see what we can do,” I laughed.  Somehow, though we didn’t have 
a lot to work with, I was determined that Cutter Gap’s first Christmas 
tree would be the most beautiful one in the world.

        We were pretty close to Cutter Branch when we found a grove of large, 
filled out trees.  

        “Well, Christy,” David said with a smile, “you seem to be the expert on 
Christmas trees, so why don’t you pick?”

        I looked around for a few minutes and stopped in front of a fairly 
good-sized tree.  “This one,” I said, pointing.

        “It’s too short,” David replied.

        “I thought you said I was the expert!”

        “Well,” he laughed, “I was wrong, wasn’t I?  Ah, this is our tree.”  He 
stopped in front of a beautiful tree about ten feet tall.  

        “You’re right,” I said, as excited as a child.  “It’s perfect!”

        “Glad it meets with you’re approval, Expert.”  He swung the axe and the 
large trunk splintered---a little.  David grinned.  “This might take a 
while.  Why don’t you all go with Miss Christy and help her find 
everything else she needs to decorate the mission house?”

        The children enthusiastically scampered off with the baskets we had 
brought.  By late morning, we had found more than enough holly, 
mistletoe, and evergreen branches to decorate the largest house in 
Asheville, and we joined David just as he was felling the tree.  

        “Timber!” he shouted as it hit the ground.  “Whew!  I think I should 
have stuck with that little tree you picked, Christy.  That was tougher 
than I expected.”  He wiped his sweaty brow with his gloved hand.

        “You should always listen to the expert,” I teased.  “Now we’ve got to 
get this stuff back to the mission so we can finish decorating before 
everyone arrives.”

        It took David and the three boys to get the enormous tree to the 
mission house, and they were exhausted by the time they were finished.  

        “What is that?” cried Ida, as they brought it inside.

        “Our Christmas tree,” David replied.

        “It’s shedding pine needles all over the floor!”  She looked at me and 
the girls and our baskets laden with greenery.  

        “We’re going to make wreaths and other decorations,” I said in reply to 
her icy gaze.  “Not in here, you’re not.  I don’t mind you having 
decorations, but it will make a horrible mess.”

        “All right, children,” I said.  “I’m going to go up to my room and find 
some things, and we’ll make these in the schoolroom.”  

        I found some ribbon and colored paper, scissors and paste, and marched 
to the schoolroom where the children waited.  We worked all day, singing 
and chattering, until we had finished. 

        “What time is it?” I asked David, as we cleaned up.

        “Three-thirty,” he said, glancing at his watch.

        Three-thirty!  The party started at sundown, so everyone would be here 
in less than two hours!  “Quick!”  I cried.  “We have got to get these 
arranged in the mission house!”

        I was thoroughly worn out by the time we were finished and hour later, 
but the results were wonderful.  Huge pine  wreaths decked with red 
ribbons hung on the doors of the mission house and the church; garland 
was wrapped gracefully around the porch and banisters; red and green 
paper chains looped around the walls of the big room where the food 
would be served; and in the center of the room stood the tree---covered 
with ribbon, pine cones, strings of popped corn and cranberries,  and 
candles.  It was so beautiful.  

        “Well done,” said Miss Alice, admiring our work.  The children beamed.  
“These decorations are the perfect touch!”

        “An’ look at our perty star!” Mountie cried, starry-eyed.  “Miz Christy 
had that shiny paper, an’ made hit fer us!  Preacher picked me up an’ 
let me put it on!” 

        I was still putting holly centerpieces on the serving tables.  “I will 
finish this, Christy,” Miss Alice said.  “Don’t you still have to 
dress?” 

        I nodded and  went up to my room.  As  I washed my face, I heard 
laughter and squeals outside.  I went out on the balcony to see what was 
going on.  The children were building snowmen.  “Teacher, will these be 
good decorations?” Mountie called to me.

        “Those are great!” I assured her, then closed the doors and drew the 
curtains.  Waves of fatigue washed over me.  The day had been fun, but 
draining.  “Next year I’ll remember not to do all this the day of the 
party,” I laughed to myself.  “Maybe I’ll rest for a minute.”

        I lay down on my bed, and the next thing I knew, I heard loud voices 
and laughter from below.  I had fallen asleep!  How long?  I glanced at 
the little clock on my bedside table.  It was nearly six o’clock.  The 
party had started, and I wasn’t dressed!  I quickly put on the new dark 
green skirt and frilly light green shirtwaist Mother had sent me, did my 
hair, sprayed on a little perfume, and ran down the stairs, straight 
into Neil.

        “Merry Christmas,” he smiled down at me.  “I was wondering where you 
were.”

        “Asleep,” I said.

        “Asleep?  You don't look like it."

        “David and the children and I spent the entire day making decorations 
and putting them up---very exhausting,” I explained.

        Neil laughed.  “I figured it was you who did all this.  A little of the 
city for Cutter Gap this year, eh?” he teased.  “It looks great, 
Christy.  I know you worked hard.  But I hope you’re not too tired to 
dance?”

        “Of course not,” I replied, giving him a smile.  Neil’s expression made 
my heart skip a beat, and we went outside where Jeb Spencer was striking 
up the music.  

        “Y’all git out’n here’n dance!” he cried to the people mingling in the 
yard.  “Hit ain’t no party without dancin’!”

        As the first dance began I said, “I haven’t danced since Ruby Mae’s 
wedding back in September.”  

        “Seems longer ago than that, with all that’s happened in between then 
and now,” Neil replied.  “I haven’t danced since then, either.  So here 
we are, picking up where we left off.  You’re doing much better, 
though.”

        “I had a good teacher,” I laughed, recalling how last time he had to 
tell me all the steps as we went.  Suddenly, I saw something out of the 
corner of my eye, and I was so surprised I tripped. 

        “Guess I spoke too soon,” Neil teased, steadying me.

        “Sorry, Neil, but have you noticed that Opal and Bird’s Eye are 
dancing?”

        “Where?” he turned his head to see them.  “Well, I’m not surprised.  
Word all over the Cove is that Bird’s Eye’s been going to see Opal quite 
frequently.”

        The fact that Neil MacNeill was spreading the latest gossip made me 
laugh.  “You deserve an award, Doctor;  you managed to give me a juicy 
tidbit before Ruby Mae!  Since when did you become a part of the gossip 
chain?”

        “Being a country doctor who makes dozens of house calls has its 
advantages, Christy.  I’m always up-to-date about whatever goes on, 
thanks to my patients!” he said with a grin.

        “Well, I’m not completely unobservant.  I have noticed Opal mention 
Bird’s Eye repeatedly during our reading lessons.  She said he brings 
them fresh meat nearly every day.  They used to court . . .”

        “I know, Christy.  I was here, remember.”

        “You don’t think---do you think Opal might---”

        “Have feelings for Bird’s Eye?” Neil finished.  “I could never guess 
the workings of a woman’s mind or heart, but things like that have been 
known to happen.”  He glanced at the couple again.  “And I have to 
admit, Opal looks very well tonight; I haven’t seen her smile in a long 
time---not since that baby died.”

        For a few minutes I was lost in thought.  *What if Opal is in love with 
Bird’s Eye?  He’s been so different since he became a Christian, but 
would she marry him?  What an awkward thing it would be to marry a man 
who had tried to kill your husband and whose son actually had killed 
him!*  

        “Would it bring you back to the present if I told you another ‘juicy 
tidbit’?”  Neil’s voice broke my reverie.  

        “What else could you know that Ruby Mae hasn’t already told me?”

        “Actually, it’s about Ruby Mae.”

        “Really?” I puzzled.  “Then I don’t know.  Will you enlighten me?”

        “She’s pregnant.”

        I stared at him in disbelief.

        “It’s the truth; I examined her today.”

        “She’s barely fifteen!” I exclaimed.

        “Well, she is  married, Christy.”

        “I know,” I replied.  “And I know they marry young out here.”  I shook 
my head.  “I just can’t imagine . . . When I was fifteen, I wasn’t at 
all ready for the responsibilities of marriage and motherhood.”

        “I’m sure she’ll have some basic ideas if you have anything to do with 
it, Christy,” Neil laughed.  “If your young students are going to get 
married and have children, then you’re going to see to it they do it 
right.”

        I had to laugh.  Yes, I was going to try to instruct Ruby Mae the best 
I could on how to care for her baby---as if I had so much experience 
myself!

        As Neil and I continued to dance, I quickly forgot about Opal and Ruby 
Mae.  All I could think about was Neil and how I loved dancing with him.  
The setting---the snow glowing in the lantern light, a full moon, 
snowflakes swirling around us and Jeb’s gay music---was rustic, yet 
peaceful, and yes, even romantic.  I gazed up into those hazel eyes that 
had such an intense hold on me . . . My stomach growled loudly.

        “Hungry?” Neil asked, a twinkle in his eyes.

        I realized I hadn’t eaten since breakfast.  “Starving!  I was working 
on the decorations . . .”

        “Let’s go inside and get something,” he said, guiding me out of the 
circle of dancers.  

        As we were heading toward the mission house, Jeb Spencer stopped 
playing and shouted out, “Hey, Doc!”

        Everyone in the yard and just inside the mission house turned and 
looked at Jeb, then to us, as he continued, “Look above ye!”

        Neil and I glanced upward at the mistletoe hanging directly over our 
heads.  He laughed, and I turned scarlet as everyone in the Cove 
guffawed and tittered.  

        “Ooooh!  Doc and Teacher under th’ mistle-toe!”  came a high-pitched 
squeal---Ruby Mae, of course.

        “Kiss ’er, Doc!” Jeb cried, winking knowingly at Neil.

        Neil leaned down and gave me a quick peck on the cheek.  My 
embarrassment ebbed, but only for a second.  
All around us, people booed and hissed.  

        “Aw, Doc!” Jeb Spencer was going to milk this for all it was worth.  
“That warn’t no kiss!  C’mon!  Ye kin do better’n that!”

        My cheeks were flame-hot, but suddenly, when I saw the ardor behind the 
laughter in Neil’s eyes, I didn’t care who was watching.  I rose up on 
my toes, my arms encircling Neil’s neck, and willingly accepted his 
passionate kiss and enveloping embrace.  When we drew back from each 
other, everyone was staring, wide-eyed, open-mouthed, utterly silent.  

        But as I took Neil’s hand and led him inside,  Jeb let out a 
resounding, “Dang!”


Chapter:  Eleven
Summary:  A busy winter in Cutter Gap.

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

"The Joy of the Children", Chapter Eleven:

AFTER A WONDERFUL first Christmas in Cutter Gap, I was caught up in the 
whirlwind of the busiest winter of my twenty years.  In early January 
Neil performed the delicate surgery to try to cure Wanda Ann Beck’s 
trachoma.  I did not teach that day, because the Doctor had said,  
“Alice is in Cataleechie, and I need help, Christy.  Besides, I think it 
would be good for Wanda Ann to have you with her.”   

        Poor Wanda Ann was shaking like a leaf as she lay on the table in 
Neil’s cabin.  “Oh, Teacher, Doc’s goin’ t’ cut on my eyes!  That’ll 
hurt bad---wors’n they do now!  I don’t want him t’ cut on my eyes!”

        She clung to my neck and trembled and sobbed.  As I tried to console 
her, I glanced over at Neil, who was sterilizing his instruments.  

Compassion was on his face as he turned from his work and came over to 
Wanda Ann.  He picked her up, carried her over to his big chair, and 
placed her in his lap.  “I know you’re afraid, sweetheart, and it’s all 
right to be afraid,” he said, stroking her hair.  “Do you remember all 
the times I put medicine on your eyes?” 

        The little girl nodded, and Neil continued.  “Each time I was very 
careful not to hurt you.  And your eyes felt better for a while, didn’t 
they?  Well, this time won’t be any different, except your eyes will be 
covered for a couple of days after I operate.  But after that, your eyes 
should be well again.  I promise I won’t do anything to hurt you, Wanda 
Ann.”  

        As I watched him comfort the child, I could not help but think what a 
good father the Doctor would be.  He continued to hold her and whisper 
soothing words in her ear until she began to grow drowsy, then  he laid 
her back down on the operating table.  I administered the ether (I was 
learning to tolerate that smell), and  Neil let out a deep breath.  He 
was more nervous than usual, because this was an experimental operation; 
all the research he had done on trachoma, his search for a cure, rested 
on the outcome of this surgery.  And I knew he cringed at the thought of 
possibly making Wanda Ann’s condition worse.

        “Pray this works, Christy.  She’ll surely go blind if it doesn’t.”

        “Let’s pray now,” I said, so we knelt on the floor and I asked the Lord 
to guide Neil’s hands and make it a successful operation.

        I assisted Neil in the surgery, but I could not look at the eyes on 
which he operated.  He scraped the granules from Wanda Ann’s infected 
eyelids and put them in a culture dish.  

        “Research,” the doctor said.  “I have to keep it all so I can study the 
bacteria more closely.  It’s horrible that these were in her eyes, but 
they’re good specimens.”

        I made the mistake of looking at the “good specimens”.  My stomach 
lurched, and Neil chuckled softly, grinning at me.  “You look a little 
green.  I keep expecting you to develop a strong stomach with all you’ve 
seen this year, but I think I’m going to have to stop expecting that.”

        “Just move that dish out of my line of vision, and I’ll be all right.”

        Neither of us spoke as Neil removed the last of the granules and 
completed the surgery.  “There,” he said, placing gauze bandages over 
Wanda Ann’s eyes.  “All finished.  I’ll just give her an injection so 
she’ll sleep the rest of the day.  She’ll have to wear the bandages for 
a while so the skin can grow back.  Also, her eyes will be very 
sensitive to the light.  If you’ve ever had any kind of eye infection 
you know the feeling.”  

        “Will you keep her here?” I asked.  

        “Yes.  It’s much cleaner than her home, and she’ll be able to rest 
quietly.”

        We finished cleaning up the mess from the operation, and Neil moved 
Wanda Ann to a bed where she could rest more comfortably.  Miss Ida had 
sent a pot of stew with me that morning, and the Doctor and I, famished 
after the tedious morning, sat down to eat.  

        After the meal, as I prepared to leave, Neil said, “Thank you for 
helping, Christy.  I know surgeries weren’t exactly in the job 
description when you decided to teach here . . .”

        “Not exactly,” I laughed.  

        “Well, I feel badly that you have to ride back to the mission alone.  I 
really shouldn’t let you, but I can’t leave Wanda Ann.”

        “I’ll be fine,” I assured him, placing a quick kiss on his cheek.  “Let 
me know if there’s anything I can do to help while Wanda Ann’s here.” 

        Several days later, Miss Alice and I watched as Neil removed the 
bandages from Wanda Ann’s eyes.  Slowly, she opened her eyes, and to our 
great delight, they were no longer red and swollen as they had been for 
so long.  

        “Teacher!” the little girl cried, a huge smile lighting her face.  “My 
eyes don’t hurt no more!  Doc fixed ’em!  He fixed ’em good, Teacher!”  

        “Well done, Neil,” said Miss Alice.  

        “We’re not out of the woods yet,” Neil replied.  “But it does look 
hopeful.  The trachoma should be better for quite a while at least, if 
it’s not completely cured.”  

        We took Wanda Ann back to the mission, and she was able to go back to 
school the following  week.  She made much progress in her schoolwork 
because of her much-improved vision, and as Neil continued to check on 
her during the following weeks, he found no signs that the trachoma 
would return.


ONCE AGAIN I began to think about the adult education programs I had 
long wanted to start here.  I felt that now was the time to act, since, 
for the time being, the feuding was over and a bridge had been built 
between the mission and the mountain men.    So, ideas in mind, I 
requested a meeting with the mission staff.

        We all sat around the dinner table one evening in late January, and 
before I could even open my mouth to present the topic, David said, 
“Christy, I think maybe your ideas for helping some of the adults in the 
Cove aren’t so bad after all.”

        “What has caused thee to change thy mind?” Miss Alice asked him.

        “Bird’s Eye Taylor,” David answered, a slow grin forming.  “After 
church last Sunday he said he wanted to read the Bible for himself..  I 
gave him an extra Bible I had, and he looked kind of embarrassed.  
‘Thank ye, Preacher,’ he said, ‘but I don’t read too well.  Reckon ye 
could holp me a little?’  So, if Bird’s Eye wants to learn, there are 
probably others.”

        I nodded.  “Well, I’m glad to hear it, because that’s exactly what I 
wanted to talk with all of you about.”

        Long into the night we discussed different approaches to teaching 
adults to read and write.  Finally we decided that one-on-one sessions 
would be the best way to start out, then, as each person had a better 
feel for reading, we would put small classes together.  After that, we 
would hopefully be able to move on to other things, like cooking and 
child care for the women, different trade skill workshops for the men.  

        “I think these will work very well once we begin, but how do we get the 
people involved?”  I wondered.  “I don’t think anything would happen if 
we just walked up to people and ask if they’d like to learn how to read 
or just announce that we’re available to teach if anyone’s interested.  
It’s got to be their desire to learn---like Fairlight and Opal. They 
asked me to teach them; I didn’t ask if they wanted to learn.”

        “That’s a good point, Christy,” Neil said.  “I have an idea, though, 
that might solve the problem.  I don’t think it was just coincidence 
that Bird’s Eye asked you to teach him to read the other day, David.  I 
think it was God’s timing.  And have you noticed how everyone’s doing 
what Bird’s Eye does?  If he shaves off his beard and cuts his hair, the 
other men shave and get a hair cut; if he wears a clean vest to church, 
so does everyone else; if he thinks the sermon was good, they think it 
was good and tell the Reverend; if Bird’s Eye asks a question to David 
or Miss Alice, everyone has a question.  It’s ‘Bird’s Eye this’ and 
‘Bird’s Eye that’ all over the Cove.”

        We all nodded as the Doctor continued.  “I think you can tell where I’m 
headed.  If Bird’s Eye wants to learn to read, then soon everybody in 
these mountains will want to as well.”

        “Well thought, Neil,” Miss Alice smiled approvingly.

        David chuckled.  “Probably not the most orthodox way to go about 
educating people, but this is Cutter Gap we’re talking about.  Remember 
when we couldn’t give away all that stuff Christy’s church donated so we 
traded it for sauerkraut!”

        The recollection made us all laugh.

        “If that’s all settled,” said Miss Alice, stifling a yawn, “I suggest 
we pray and commit this to the Lord.”  She yawned again, and added, “And 
retire for the night!”

THE IDEA was even more successful than I could have hoped.  Within a 
week after Bird’s Eye began reading lessons with David, three more men 
had asked David to teach them.  They were eager to learn and progressed 
quickly, soon wanting to learn about mathematics and finances.  More and 
more men wanted “book larnin’ ”, and though the idea was mine and David 
was teaching them, I couldn’t help but think how Bird’s Eye was more 
responsible for the men’s new attitude towards education than we were.  
He was a natural leader, and it seemed as though the change God had 
worked in his life was the key to reaching the other mountain men.  He 
was, in every way, the “fixer” Opal McHone had seen so many years 
before.  I could only thank God for the  insight Opal had into Bird’s 
Eye’s heart and the faith that he could be changed, and the rest of the 
Cove with him.

        By the end of February, I had about six women in my class, and they 
were devouring more reading material than I could think of as effective 
teaching tools.  At first they mostly wanted to read the Bible, but one 
day I decided to try a wild experiment.  Mother frequently sent me 
copies of ladies’ magazines, and I thought that maybe, just maybe, I 
could use them to get the women interested in those other classes I had 
envisioned. 

        The magazines were full of recipes, and I decided that as a project to 
help the women with their writing, they could copy the recipes.  This 
was very well received by  the women, and soon they were begging for 
more recipes to copy.  We made cookbooks filled with old family recipes, 
and Miss Ida generously leant us cookbooks to take recipes from.  Pretty 
soon, the women began cooking with their new recipes.  The fact that 
they lacked many of the required ingredients did not deter them from 
trying new dishes; the mountain women were quite ingenious when it came 
to making substitutes, as I had discovered from Fairlight.  My greatest 
relief was to go to a see a friend and not be served sauerkraut!

        Housekeeping was slowly improving, too.  More often when I walked 
into a cabin, the floor would be swept, and dishes would be washed and 
put away; clean curtains were hung in the windows, and tables were laid 
out with tablecloths and winter plants.

        I was thrilled at each subtle change I saw in the mountain community.  
Patience and hard work were finally paying off!

        One day in early March, there was a savage pounding on the front door 
of the mission house.  I opened it and found a weeping Ruby Mae Beck on 
the doorstep. 

        “Miz Christy, I need yer holp.”  She came inside.  “I’ve been a-doin’ 
my best t’ be a good wife t’ Will, but I ain’t much of a cook.  Pore 
thing, he’s right nigh starvin’.  Says I better larn t’ cook ’fore I end 
up a widder.  Can you larn me to cook, Miz Christy?  I’ve jest got t’ 
larn, ’specially with this here young’un on the way!”  She patted  her 
rounding stomach and looked at me imploringly.

        “Well, let me confess, Ruby Mae, I’m not much of a cook myself.”   I 
felt a little like a hypocrite, since I had been referring to the 
“cooking class” I was teaching quite often; actually, the Cove women 
already knew plenty about cooking---it was just what they cooked that 
had needed improving.  Now Ruby Mae really needed help, and I had none 
to give her.  

        “I can teach you to cook,” came a shrill voice from behind me---Miss 
Ida.  “If you’ll pay attention and not jabber or make a mess.  I’ll 
teach you every afternoon until you can cook a good meal.”

        “Oh, Miz Ida, I’d be so much obleeged to ye!  Shorely I would!”

        The two walked toward the kitchen.  “You should come, too, Christy,” 
Ida said.  “Every woman should know how to cook.”

        I decided she was right, so I joined them.  Poor Ida!  If only she had 
known just what she was getting herself into, she never would have 
volunteered to give Ruby Mae cooking lessons!  The girl never stopped 
talking, and nearly drove Ida to the brink of insanity several times.  
She was such a scatterbrain, because she could never stop talking long 
enough to pay attention to what she was doing.  Food had never been more 
burned, recipes more bungled.  Yet Miss Ida continued to teach Will 
Beck’s young wife to cook.

        One week Ruby Mae had seemed to be doing better, so Ida decided to let 
her try a meal by herself.  We sat outside the kitchen, Miss Ida as 
nervous as a mother who had let someone else take care of her baby.  
After a while, we smelled something horrible and heard a loud noise, 
followed by a scream.  Ida and I charged into the smoke-filled kitchen.  
I opened a window, and when the smoke cleared, we beheld a rock-hard, 
black chicken and vegetables all over everything; there was flour 
everywhere and a mountain of dirty pots and pans on the cabinet.  

        Ruby Mae began to sob.  “I’m terrible sorry, Miz Ida.  I’m jest a 
hopeless cook.  I’ll never larn, and Will’ll starve, and I’ll be a 
widder soon . . .”

        Valiant Ida began cleaning up the mess and said, “Come back tomorrow, 
Ruby Mae, and we’ll have another lesson.”

        From that day forward, Ruby Mae was a model pupil; during her cooking 
lessons she uttered not a word for sheer terror of becoming a widow.

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

Chapter:  Twelve
Summary:  Courtin'
**********************************************************************

"The Joy of the Children", Chapter Twelve:

“WHAT DO MEN LIKE?”

        My abrupt question nearly caused Miss Alice to drop the stack of 
breakfast dishes she was bringing to the kitchen.  

        “I want to do something for Neil,” I quickly explained.  “He is so 
dedicated to his work and has been so helpful to us here at the mission 
. . .”

        Miss Alice regained her composure as I continued.  “But I am at a loss 
to think of anything I could do.  Do you have any ideas?”

        She was about to say something, when David  came in, snatched a few 
leftover sausage links and a pancake, and said, “Great breakfast, 
Christy.  Maybe you can take over Ruby Mae’s cooking lessons now; I’m 
sure Ida would be delighted to hand them over to you.”  He ate another 
pancake.  “But it really is good---perfect way to start the day.”

        He went off to do some chores, and Miss Alice said, “I think you have a 
solution to your problem.”

        “What do you mean?”

        “Thee just witnessed what I did, Christy.  You saw how he ate---and 
ate,” she laughed.  “Men are always pleased to have a good meal.  And 
I’m sure Neil would appreciate it more than most; I don’t imagine he 
spends much time in the kitchen.”

        “What a good idea!” I cried, clapping my hands.  “I’ll go over to see 
him after school and fix him the best meal I can!  Thank you, Miss 
Alice!”

        Neil was fishing in the stream next to his cabin when I rode up on 
Buttons that afternoon.  

        “Christy!” His face lit up in a smile when he saw me, and immediately 
he laid down his fishing rod and made his way over to me.  “What brings 
you all the way out here after a busy day of teaching?” he asked, 
helping me dismount.  “And looking very lovely, I might add.”

        I blushed a little.  Hoping he would notice, I had put on my favorite 
skirt and blouse, arranged my hair down, and even worn earrings, which I 
did very seldom in the Cove.  I told myself how silly I was being, but I 
didn’t care; I wanted to look my best for Neil.

        “Well,” I said, suddenly not knowing what to tell him.  “You’re 
constantly giving to everyone out here, and it doesn’t seem like anyone 
ever does anything for you.  You’ve done so much for all the people 
here, and you mean so much to them . . .”  I was beating around the 
bush, and I realized that wouldn’t do; Neil liked honesty, and hadn’t we 
been very honest with one another lately?  

        “To me,” I said.  “You mean so much to me, Neil, and I want to repay 
you.”  I unfastened the huge basket of food I had brought from the back 
of Buttons’ saddle.  “It’s not much, but I thought you might like some 
dinner---and company.”

        Neil gave me such a tender look my heart skipped a beat.  “I can’t 
think of anything I’d like more.”

        We walked up the hill to the cabin and went inside.  Neil seemed a bit 
embarrassed by the disarray and hastily tried to clear the 
dishes---several days’ worth---from the table.  

        I touched his arm.  “Don’t worry about it.  You just sit back and 
relax, and I’ll take care of these.”

        After a minute, Neil went from the room.  While he was gone, I tidied 
up and scrubbed the dishes.  I smiled to myself.  He needs someone to 
take care of him, I thought.  He was so  so meticulous and thorough in 
his work, but when it came to housekeeping . . .  

        I was laughing to myself, when I heard him ask, upon returning to the 
room, “Are you laughing at me?”

        I turned towards him.  He had changed his clothes and combed his hair.  
I couldn’t help but think how handsome he was.  

        “Well,” I said, “I wasn’t really laughing at you.”

        “About me, then.  Or maybe my housekeeping.  Admit it, Christy,” he 
said with a grin.  “You’re appalled.”

        “I’ve seen much worse,” I replied, turning back to the dishes.  
“David’s bunkhouse, my brother George’s room, for instance.  And anyway, 
I’ve seen your laboratory; it makes up for. . .”

        “It makes up for the rest of the house?” he completed my statement, 
grinning.  

        “I didn’t mean it like that.”

        “Yes, you did.”

        We both laughed.

        As I prepared the meal, I realized how much I was enjoying myself.  It 
felt so natural to be cooking dinner for Neil and talking with him about 
my day at school and his day of doctoring.  Marriage must be wonderful, 
I thought.  How delightful it must be to have someone to share with and 
make happy!  And this cabin in the woods seemed so homey and 
comfortable---regardless of the less-than-perfect housekeeping.  

        At last we sat down to eat.  Neil and I clasped hands across the table, 
and I asked the blessing.

        “Lord, I thank You for the food we are about to eat, which You have 
provided.  Bless it to our bodies so that we may be able to serve You 
always.  Thank You also for Neil, Father---for the faith he has in You, 
for the many gifts You have given him, and for the special friendship we 
share.  Give him strength and wisdom as he ministers to the people of 
Cutter Gap.  Please bless our time together tonight, Lord.  We ask all 
these things in Your Name.  Amen.”

        Neil didn’t release my hand immediately, but I didn’t pull it away like 
I had that day I had ridden with him to the mission.  He gazed at me 
with that  look that made my heart go wild.  “Thank you,” he whispered.  
Then he let go of my hand and picked up a knife to carve the chicken.  
“Now I find out exactly what kind of pay-back this is.”

        “What are you talking about?”  I asked.

        “You said you wanted to repay me for all I’ve done.  Maybe you’re a 
wonderful cook, so it will be pay-back for good things I’ve done.”  Neil 
stopped cutting and looked at me teasingly.  “Or maybe I haven’t done 
anything good, and you’re a rotten cook, and it’s that kind of 
pay-back.”

        “Don’t you trust me?” I appealed, laughing.  “I’ll admit I didn’t do 
much cooking back in Asheville, but I’ve been learning---and it was Miss 
Ida who taught me, right alongside Ruby Mae.”

        Neil threw back his head and laughed.  “I’d love to see that!  Ruby Mae 
and Ida Grantland in the same kitchen?!  But I’m glad someone’s teaching 
her---poor Will!”  He paused and took a bite of food.  “All right, 
Christy, I apologize for ever doubting your ability as a cook; this is 
very good.”

        “I’m relieved.  This is only the second full meal I’ve cooked; this 
morning’s breakfast was my first, and  I was afraid I would mess it up 
horribly tonight.”

        “Christy Huddleston,” Neil said, giving me a look of approval and 
admiration, “I don’t believe there’s anything you can’t do once you set 
your mind to it.   Just think of all the things you’d never done before 
you came to Cutter Gap that are second nature to you now:  teaching, 
nursing, assisting with surgeries, just this basic way of  living.  
You’re pretty impressive.”

        “Well, I think God had more to do with it than I did.”

        Neil nodded but kept his eyes on me.

        “Eat your supper,” I said, coloring a little. “It’s going to get cold.”

        “Yes ma’am.”

        When I began to clear the table, Neil insisted on helping me with the 
dishes.  “I hate to just sit back and watch other people doing all the 
work. It’s not as if washing a few dishes will kill me, Christy.  
Besides, it will go twice as fast and we can talk some more---if you 
don’t have to be getting back to the mission soon.”

        “All right, then,” I replied, giving him a smile.

        Two did make the work lighter, and as we shared the task of washing 
dishes, I continued to think how comfortable I felt here with Neil.  I 
belong with him.  I knew, deep in my heart, that this is what I 
wanted---to spend every day just like this, here, in this cabin, with 
this man whom I loved more than I ever thought I could love.

        When the last dish had been put away (“A novel idea,” Neil said of 
putting away the dishes), I took a pie out of the oven and made a pot of 
coffee.  Neil had sat down in the living area and was lighting his pipe.  
I took him some pie and coffee and sat down in a chair opposite him.  I 
noticed a misty look in his hazel eyes.

        “You can’t imagine how much your visit has meant to me, Christy.  I’d 
forgotten what it’s like to have someone care; maybe I never really knew 
what it was like.  This cabin has actually felt like home tonight.  You 
made it feel like home. ”

        I didn’t know what to say.  

        “Did that make you uncomfortable?” Neil asked bluntly, tugging at the 
ends of his ruddy curls.

        “No,” I answered, smiling.  “No, not at all.  It’s felt like home to 
me, too.”  

        “Really, Christy?”  He cupped my small hands lovingly in his large, 
strong ones, his eyes searched mine imploringly.  “Could you be happy in 
a life like this---here---with me?”

        The intensity with which his eyes held me was almost overpowering.  
Could I be happy?  I knew that was the only thing on earth that could 
make me happy!  “Yes, Neil,” I whispered.  “Very happy.  I love you so 
much!” 

        “Oh, Christy,” he murmured, pulling me into an embrace.  “My sweet 
lass.” 

        He kissed me softly on the forehead, then I pulled away, suddenly very 
aware that I was alone with Neil in his cabin, very much in 
love---hardly a proper situation.

        “It’s getting late,” I said self-consciously, glancing out a window at 
the night sky.

        “Yes,” Neil nodded, looking as though he understood and shared my 
feelings about our position.  “I’ll be a gentleman and ride back to the 
mission with you.”
        

THE NEXT day after school I sat on the schoolhouse steps talking through 
an algebra problem with Lizette Holcombe and Clara Spencer.  

        “You see, girls, after you’ve taken out the common terms, you can 
factor it, just like you’ve been doing.”  

        Clara whispered something to Lizette, and they started laughing.  
        “Girls,” I said somewhat impatiently, without looking up from the 
slate, “you asked me for help, which I’m happy to give, but you must pay 
attention.  Now, I’ll explain it one more time.”

        I repeated the instructions I had just given, but they still were not 
looking at the equation on the slate.  “Lizette!  Clara!”  I scolded, 
finally looking up.  “Where are your minds today?”

        “Sorry, Teacher,” Lizette said giggling.  “I heard what ye said, an’ 
I’m obleeged fer yer holp.”

        “Then why didn’t you tell me you understood?  Why do you two keep 
whispering and giggling?”

        “Well, Miz Christy,” Clara said slowly, trying to suppress a grin, “Doc 
MacNeill’s over yonder talkin’ t’ Rob Allen, but he ain’t payin’ too 
much mind t’ Rob---keeps glancin’ over here at ye.”

        “Girls,” I said, blushing, “the Doctor probably has something he needs 
to discuss with me and is looking to see if we’re finished with our 
work.  You shouldn’t always read more into a look than is necessary.”

        “Oh, no, Teacher, Doc warn’t givin’ ye no look o’ that kind,” Clara  
argued.  “That were a courtin’ look.”

        Just then Neil came over to us.  “Hello, girls, Miss Huddleston,” came 
his greeting.  “I don’t mean to interrupt, but I think this belongs to 
you, Teacher.”  He set a large basket next to me.  “You left it at my 
cabin.”

        “Thank you, Doctor,” I said, with only a glance at the basket.  “But 
you didn’t ride all the way out here just to give me a basket, did you?”  

        “No,” he answered.  “I was on my way to the mission house to replenish 
the medicine cabinet and speak with Alice.  I think I’ll step on over, 
and I’ll see you ladies later.”  He winked at me, and I knew he would be 
waiting for me at the mission house when I got there.

        “Well, girls, do you have any more algebra questions?” I inquired, 
standing up.  I picked up the basket, and then, with a little gasp of 
pleasure, I noticed that Neil had filled it with wildflowers. 
 
        “Lordy!” Lizette exclaimed, “That Doc shorely knows all ’bout courtin’!  
Yer right lucky, Miz Christy!”

        “Have a good afternoon, girls,” I said, shaking my head  at their 
romantic minds.  But I could not find it in me to rebuke their comments 
again.  I certainly was lucky; there was only one Neil MacNeill, and I 
was the woman  who received baskets of flowers from him.  I sighed 
contentedly and went inside to gather up my things.
********************************************************************

Chapter:  Thirteen
Summary:  Opal makes an announcemet; spring comes to Cutter Gap and 
brings memories.
********************************************************************

"The Joy of the Children", Chapter Thirteen
 
ONE SUNNY Saturday a few weeks later Ruby Mae was at the mission house, 
and I was helping her make curtains for the shabby cabin she shared with 
Will.  She was slowly yet surely growing in her domestic skills, and I 
was glad to see it.  It seemed that pregnancy was helping her to mature 
as a young wife in a way she desperately needed, although I still 
thought that she should still be playing games of make-believe with 
Bessie Coburn and Lizette Holcombe.  

        We were talking as we sewed, when Ruby looked up from the hem she was 
making and declared, “Here comes Opal McHone.  Law, but she looks 
tickled pink!  Lookit how fast she’s comin’ up here!  Reckon she’s got 
somethin’ important t’ tell ye?”

        “I reckon so,” I replied, just as Opal reached the porch.  

        “Oh, Miz Christy,” she said breathlessly.  “I have the most excitin’ 
tidbit for ye!”

        I smiled and noticed how well she looked; the forlorn look she had worn 
ever since Tom’s death had vanished, and her expression was radiant.  
Her shoulders no longer sagged with the weight of her sorrows, and her 
deep, brown eyes were starry.  

        Before I could remark, she blurted out, “Bird’s Eye come t’ see me 
yesterday while the boys was in school.  He spoke real gentle-like and 
said that he’d been fixin’ up his place.  Also said he’d never quite got 
over me, and that he knew he wasn’t deservin’ no kindness from me, but 
he’d be real happy if I’d think on bein’ his woman.”

        I was speechless.  Bird’s Eye Taylor had proposed to Opal!  

        “Lordamercy!”  Ruby Mae cried, dropping her curtain.  “What’n earth did 
ye tell him?”

        Opal smiled.  “I telled him I’d like t’ be his woman, seein’ as he was 
sech a nice, God-fearin’ man now.  But what do ye think on hit, Miz 
Christy?  Aim I wrong fer sayin’ yes t’ Bird’s Eye?”

        “No, Opal, not at all,”  I assured her.  “Bird’s Eye has turned out to 
be that great fixer you saw so long ago.  You should be proud to become 
his wife.”

        This pleased Opal, and her smile broadened.  “Shorely, shorely!  I been 
seein’ the real Bird’s Eye.  Do ye know what he said last night?  Last 
night we went traipsin in the woods, and he said he’d try t’ be a good 
paw t’ my boys.  Then he looked at me an' said real sweet-like, ‘I know 
how sad ye was when yer baby died.  I was sorry fer ye.  Maybe we kin 
have us a little gal-baby of our’n someday.’  Warn’t that jest the 
nicest thing ye ever heared tell of, Miz Christy?  Hit made me cry with 
happiness, and he kissed me.  I feel like a young courtin’ girl agin!”

        I couldn’t help but smile, and my heart thanked God that Opal was happy 
again.  My thoughts turned to her children.  “Have you told the boys 
yet?”

        “Shorely did,” Opal replied.  “I was a might worried ’bout what Isaak 
would think, but he seemed real pleased by hit.  He went huntin’ with 
Bird’s Eye t’day, too.  Bird’s Eye’s been real carin’ t’ th’ boys, and 
they’ve taken a shine t’ him.  Uncle Bogg ain’t mad, either.  He’n 
Bird’s Eye are good friends now.  Ain’t hit a wonder how God’s stopped 
all this feudin’, Miz Christy?”

        I embraced the woman.  “Oh yes, Opal, it is a wonder!  And I’m very 
happy for you and Bird’s Eye!”

        “When’s the weddin’ t’ be?” Ruby Mae asked.

        “Don’t rightly know jest now,” Opal replied.  “We hain’t discussed hit 
yet.  But I don’t think Bird’s Eye’ll want t’ be waitin’ too long.”  She 
smiled happily and sighed.  “I don’t, neither.  Wall, I best git on over 
t’ see Mary Allen.  I’m bustin t’ tell her the news!”

        “Lordamercy!” cried Ruby Mae as we watched Opal leave.  “Thar shorely 
is a heap o’ courtin’ goin’ on these mountains!  Opal and Bird’s Eye 
gettin’ hitched!”  She shook her head and glanced over at me with a 
grin.  “And Teacher’n Doc!”

        “Ruby Mae!”  I ejaculated.  “Dr. MacNeill and I aren’t getting 
married!”

        “Wall, not yit,” she said slowly.  “But law, Miz Christy!  Don’t ye 
hope he asks ye soon?”


SPRING was normally my favorite season.  Ever since I was a child, I had 
been filled with awe and wonder at the newly budding trees and blooming 
flowers.  And springtime in the Great Smokies was even more awesome and 
wonderful than springtime in Asheville. 

        I opened the double doors leading from my bedroom to the balcony one 
morning, and the landscape took my breath away, just as it had the year 
before, my first spring in Cutter Gap.  But as I gazed out at the beauty 
and remembered last spring, I felt a horrible stab of pain in my heart.  
Fairlight had loved spring, too, and she had shared all of the Cove’s 
springtime wonders, hidden and unhidden, great and small, with me.   

        What times we had had together, exploring every corner of the 
mountains!  And now she was gone.  Never again would we pick bouquets of 
sweet-smelling wildflowers, wade in cool, bubbling creeks, go fishing, 
stand on the crest of a cliff and gaze down at the world.  How could I 
ever again enjoy those things without my dear friend?  Who would reveal 
to me the magical secrets of the season?  Oh Fairlight, Fairlight!  How 
short was our time together!  

        I went to school that day, my heart bruised and sore.  I did not feel 
like teaching at all.  It did not help matters any that the children 
were exulting in spring when I was so miserable.  Couldn’t they stop 
smiling?  Did they have to be so cheerful?  Didn’t they feel that 
something was dreadfully wrong with this spring?  How could it even be 
spring without Fairlight Spencer?

        Then there were the Spencer children.  Though they tried to be happy 
along with the other children, the grief and pain lurking just beneath 
their smiles was unmistakable.  Lulu and Little Guy looked like lost 
puppies, and John, Zady, and Clara were obviously struggling to bear the 
burdens of loss and extra responsibility.  I always tried to comfort and 
mother Fairlight’s children, but today I just couldn’t.  Seeing them 
only made me miss her more.

        Just before the lunch break, Jeb came to the schoolhouse.

        “Sorry t’ be interruptin’, Miz Christy, but d’ye mind if’n I take John 
early?  I’m needin’ help wi’ th’ bees.”

        “Of course.”

        “I’m obleeged,” Jeb replied, his eyes full of emptiness.  

        I walked outside with him, unable to ignore his pain.  “Jeb how are you 
doing?”

        He let out a long sigh.  “I’m gettin’ along, I reckon.  Jest can’t 
rightly git used t’ her not bein’ here.”  Then Jeb turned abruptly and 
walked away with his son.  

        I couldn’t stand it any longer.  I couldn’t teach any more today.   I 
went inside, told the children they were dismissed, gathered up my 
things, and ran from the schoolhouse.  I didn’t even wait for the 
children to leave.  I just ran, weeping, crying out, “Fairlight, oh, 
Fairlight”, ran to Persimmon Hill and the cemetery. 
 
        I was somewhat calmed, though breathless, when I arrived, but then I 
saw Neil sitting before two piles of stones: his parents’ graves.  
Forgetting my own misery, I went over and knelt beside him, putting my 
arms around his broad shoulders.  He rested his head under my chin, just 
like a little boy going to his mother for comfort, and I stroked his 
hair.  

        “It’s been twenty years,” he said softly, “and longer than that since 
my father’s death.  You’d think I’d be through crying by now.”
         I held onto him tighter. 

        “I don’t know if I’m still exactly grieving their deaths,” he said.  
“But I miss them---especially lately.  I wish they could see what God is 
doing in Cutter Gap.  I want to talk to them, ask their advice . . .”

        I sniffed and nodded.  “I know what you mean.”

        Neil straightened up and said, “You came to Persimmon Hill for a 
reason, Christy.  I needed it, but something in me doubts that  you knew 
I needed to cry on your shoulder.”

        “Why do you say that?”

        “One, you could not have known I was coming here.  Two, school 
shouldn’t be out yet, and lastly, you’re about to cry.”

        I stood and turned away from him.  “I let the children go home early.  
I just couldn’t teach today.”  

        Immediately, the tears burst forth, as I saw Fairlight’s grave next to 
me.  

        “Oh, Christy,” Neil said, embracing me.  “You’ve been thinking about 
her and missing her, haven’t you?”

        I nodded, my body wracked with sobs.  “It hurts, Neil.  Everything 
here---her children, Jeb, the spring---reminds me of her and the 
wonderful times we shared.  Never again . . .”

        “Sweet lass,” he murmured, his lips brushing my hair.  “I know what we 
need.”  

        He lifted my chin, wiped away my tears, and said, “Let’s go for a 
ride.”

        Neil whistled to Charlie, who was grazing a few yards away.  The horse 
came at his master’s call, and Neil swung up into the saddle.  With 
little effort, he pulled me up behind him, and we galloped away.  As we 
rode through the mountain ridges and meadows, I began to feel better.  I 
leaned against Neil’s back and closed my eyes . . .

        It seemed like seconds later when I became aware that Neil was 
dismounting.  “Were you asleep?” he asked with a grin as he lifted me 
off Charlie’s back.  

        “I don’t know,” I said, a bit groggily.  “I must have been.”

        We were at Neil’s cabin, and he took my hand and led me to the front 
porch, where he picked up two fishing rods and slung a tackle basket 
over his shoulder.  In answer to my questioning expression, he said, 
“You know how to fish?”         “Not really,” I said.  Fairlight and I had 
fished a couple of times, but I had never used a rod and reel.  

        “Then I’ll teach you.”

        We walked back down the hill to the creek and stood on the rocky bank.  
Neil put a pole in my hands, and I felt awkward and absolutely 
ridiculous.  But he stood behind me, guiding my unsure hands with his 
strong, steady ones.  

        “I always come here when I’m down,” he explained, and I relaxed in his 
arms.  We fished in silence for a while, drinking in the beauty and 
peace of our surroundings.  Suddenly, I realized I wasn’t upset anymore 
about Fairlight, and for a moment I felt her near me.  

        “ ‘It’s today I must be living,’ ”  I said, turning my head to look at 
Neil.  “Fairlight said that, only I didn’t remember it until now.  You 
know what?”

        “What?”

        “She believed that with all her heart.  I don’t think she would want me 
to be longing for the past while today---a beautiful, wonderful 
today---is slipping away.”

        “That’s a wise thought,” Neil commented, his brow furrowed as he 
contemplated my words.  “And it eases the pain.  So here’s my thought:  
I can’t stop missing my parents, and you can’t stop missing Fairlight, 
but if we let ourselves get caught up in them not being here, it will 
hurt worse.  Treasure the past, Christy, but live today, just as it 
is---beautiful and wonderful, as you described it.”

        I turned my gaze back to the creek, and we lapsed into silence once 
again.  

        After a while, Neil said, taking the fishing pole. “It’s not a very 
good day for fishing, is it? Anyway, I’ve just thought of something a 
little more to your feminine fancy.”

        “I like fishing,” I insisted as we walked back to the cabin.  

        “Yes, but they’re not biting,” he grinned, opening the cabin door.  
“Stay here; I’ll be right back.”

        A few minutes later he came back out on the porch, carrying a 
phonograph.  

        “You have a phonograph!” I cried eagerly.

        Neil shrugged.  “One of my many failed attempts to find something to 
make Margaret happy.”  Then he said, smiling,  “Although, it’s not 
exactly gone to waste; I’ve always enjoyed music myself.”  He turned it 
on and said, offering me his hand, “May I have this dance, Miss 
Huddleston?”

        I readily placed my hand in his.  “I would love to dance with you, Dr. 
MacNeill.” 

**********************************************************************
Chapter:  Fourteen
Summary:  It's a surprise!  :)

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

"The Joy of the Children", Chapter Fourteen

THE LAST DAY of school before the spring planting break, I stood in the 
school yard with John Spencer and Rob Allen, discussing college.  I had 
received a letter from Hazen Smith saying that if there were any of my 
students who were interested in attending college, he might have 
scholarship opportunities.  I told them to think about it, talk it over 
with their parents, and as the boys were leaving, Neil strode across the 
grounds from the mission house, Charlie’s reins in hand.

        “Hello, boys,” he said.

        “Howdy, Doc,” they replied. 

        “What’s keeping you after school?  Of course, if I was in school and 
had a teacher as pretty as Miss Huddleston,  I’d find an excuse for 
staying late.” 

        Neil grinned impishly, I blushed scarlet, and John and Rob looked at 
each other knowingly.  

        “Miz Christy’s been talkin’ t’ us about college,” Rob explained. 

        I explained to Neil about my letter from Mr. Smith.

        “Ah,” Neil nodded.  “Well, if either of you has any questions about 
college, I’d be glad to talk with you.”

        “Thanks, Doc,”  John said.  “I’ll be seein’ ye, Miz Christy.”

        “Goodbye, boys,” I replied, waving.

        “I didn’t mean to embarrass you, Christy,” Neil said.  “It kind of 
slipped out.”

        “Well,” I teased in my best stern teacher voice, “See that it doesn’t 
happen again, especially since there are other children close by.”

        “Yes, ma’am,” the doctor said penitently. “I just stopped by to tell 
you I’m leaving for a bit.  I need to go to the city for some supplies 
and to meet with a friend.”

        “Oh.”  This was disappointing news.  “How long will you be gone?”

        “Just a a few days.  No later than Friday, if all goes as planned.”

        I nodded and told Neil I would miss him.  

        “I’ll miss you, too, Christy,” he replied smiling sweetly.  “I’ll come 
straight to you when I get back to the Cove.”

        We shook hands (no kisses in front of the children), then Neil mounted 
Charlie.

        “Be careful!”  I called after him.

        “I will.  See you on Friday!”

        “Miz Christy!  Miz Christy!”  Ruby Mae was running towards me at 
break-neck speed---a remarkable feat, for the size of her stomach seemed 
to be increasing daily.

        “What is it, Ruby Mae?”

        “Was that Doc MacNeill just ridin’ away?”

        “Yes.”

        “Did he tell ye where he was a-goin’ to?”

        “To the city,” I replied.

        “Which city?”

        “Well, Knoxville, I suppose.”  Neil had not specified, and though I had 
not paid much heed to that, Ruby Mae’s questions aroused my curiosity.
        “No, he ain’t,”  Ruby Mae declared.  “He be headed t’ Asheville.  You 
know why he’s goin’ thar?”

        “To get supplies and to see a friend.  And how do you know he’s going 
to Asheville?”

        Ruby Mae answered with an expression of exultation, “He was jest at the 
mission makin’ a telephone call, and I heared him ask fer someone in 
Asheville.”

        “Ruby Mae!”  I scolded.  “Did you eavesdrop on Dr. MacNeill’s private 
telephone conversation?” 

        “It were an accident.  Couldn’t rightly holp hit,” she said in her 
defense.  She wasn’t lying; one had to practically shout into the 
telephone to be heard, and anyone in the mission house could hear.  

        “But, oh, Miz Christy,” Ruby Mae continued.  “I know who ’tis he’s 
goin’ t’ talk to.  Heared him makin’ ’rangements.  Doc’s goin’ t’ see 
yer paw!”

        I was shocked.  “Daddy?”

        Ruby Mae giggled and clasped my hands.  “I reckon Doc’ll be askin’ fer 
yer hand.”

        The thought made me dizzy and as giddy as the red-headed girl before 
me.  “Ruby Mae, are you sure he’s going to see my father?”

        “Law yes!  Doc said, ‘Mr. Huddleston, I’s got somethin’ t’ discuss with 
ye.  I’ll be in Asheville this week.  May I call on ye?’”

        I laughed outright at this.  I was so certain Neil had said, “ ‘I’s got 
somethin’ t’ discuss with ye.’ ”   

        Ruby Mae was still talking.  “Doc said he’d be thar tomorrow.”

        Tomorrow.  Neil was going to ask Daddy for permission to marry me 
tomorrow!  I checked myself, feeling I oughtn’t take Ruby Mae’s story 
too seriously.  But how could she get that much information wrong?  Her 
details were pretty impressive.  And why else would Neil make a trip to 
Asheville?  Maybe some of his doctor friends lived there, but then, Ruby 
Mae distinctly heard him speaking to Mr. Huddleston.  Then another 
thought crossed my mind:  Ruby Mae knew about all this.

        “Ruby Mae,” I said, shaking my finger at her.  “Not a word of this to 
anyone.”

        “Lordy!” she grinned.  “I can’t be keepin’ nothin’ like this a secret!”

        “You can, and you will.”  

        The girl cowed at my suddenly authoritative tone.  

        “All right,” she stammered.  “I’ll try.”  Then she smiled slyly.  “ 
’Sides, hit makes me feel kinda special t’ know all ’bout yer romancin’ 
afore anyone else.  Bye, Miz Christy!”

THE REST OF THE WEEK passed uneventfully.  I missed Neil dreadfully, and 
I realized more and more how much I loved and needed him.  Yes, I had my 
friends---Miss Alice, David, Opal, and Neil’s Aunt Hattie, whom I had 
been seeing often since we met in December.  I loved them all dearly, 
but what a lonely world it was without my best friend!  A day did not 
seem complete without talking to Neil, without the two of us sharing our 
thoughts.  Ever since the winter he had “come a-courtin’ ” at the 
mission with all the lover-like regularity of a good suitor.  How 
spoiled I was that I could hardly stand these few days alone!  "But 
isn’t that what love’s all about?" I thought to myself.  "Not being able 
to get enough of one person?"  

        I sat out on the front porch of the mission house all Friday afternoon, 
waiting for Neil to ride up on Charlie.  He had said he would come 
straight to me, so of course I was determined to be there when he came.  

        After a while I grew restless, and the beautiful spring day was 
beckoning me to come out and enjoy it.  I put down the book I was 
reading and walked about the mission yard.  All around me birds were 
singing, and flowers were in full bloom.  Their intoxicating fragrance 
and the gentle breeze seemed to push me farther and farther from the 
mission house, and I found myself wandering towards Lonesome Pine Ridge.  
I was lost in the beauty of my surroundings and in my daydreams, when I 
realized how far I had gone.  What if Neil got back to the mission and I 
wasn’t there?  

        Just as I started to run back, I heard a horse’s neigh and a voice call 
out, “Hello!”

        I turned to face Neil, who was grinning broadly at me from several 
yards away.  He hopped down from Charlie’s back, and  suddenly, with a 
surge of joy I could not contain, I ran to him and into his arms.

        “Well, this is a welcome!” he cried happily, placing a quick kiss on my 
lips.  “Did you miss me, Christy?”

        “So much,” I answered, still clinging to him.

        Neil’s expression softened, and he kissed me again---a slow, deep kiss.  

        When we finally drew back from one another, Neil took my hand and we 
walked back towards the mission silently, reveling in each other’s 
presence.  It was I who eventually broke the quiet with, “I didn’t even 
ask you how your trip was.”

        “It was fine,” came his absent reply.  He stopped walking and turned to 
face me.  “But I’m glad to be home.”         
   
        There was something akin to fire in those hazel eyes which held mine 
intensely.  Suddenly, Neil was grasping my hands, saying ardently, 
“Christy, I cannot wait any longer.  I love you more than you could 
possibly imagine.  I know I don’t deserve you, and you deserve so much 
more than I can give you, but---” he paused and looked earnestly into my 
eyes, gently stroking my hand.  “Will you marry me?”

        I felt like I was about to burst.  My heart beat wildly, and huge tears 
of joy welled up in my eyes.  Neil was looking at me with such love, and 
he had asked me to marry him!  

        “Yes!”  I cried.  “Yes, Neil, I will marry you!”

        He gave me a brilliant smile, then said, “Christy, I told you I was 
going to the city.  But I did not say that the city was Asheville, or 
that the friend I was meeting with was your father.”  He grinned almost 
bashfully and added, reaching into his jacket pocket.  “And I had only 
one ‘supply’ to get---this.”

        I gasped as he opened a little velvet box and revealed a ring---an 
exquisite sapphire, glimmering in the sunlight.

        “Oh, Neil!”

        “Do you like it?”

        “It’s beautiful!”

        “When I saw it, I thought of your eyes.  I knew this was your ring.”  
Gently, he slid the ring on my finger and kissed my hand.  “Actually, to 
be completely, honest, Christy,” he added sheepishly, “I’m not a wealthy 
man; I cannot afford a diamond. I know it’s not what you could have had 
in Asheville . . .”

        “That doesn’t matter, Neil,” I assured him.  “I’d rather have this 
precious sapphire than in the biggest diamond given by the richest 
suitor.”    

        Then, before I could utter another word, he lifted me up and swung me 
around, laughing joyously.

        “Oh lass, you have made me so happy!  And the ring did make me think of 
your eyes.”

        “I love you, Neil!” I cried at last, before he gave me a quick, 
passionate kiss that took my breath away.  

        He drew back, beaming, and I grabbed his hand and said, “Ida probably 
has supper waiting for us.”

        So, hand-in-hand, we ran back through the meadow to the mission house, 
wildly happy, excited about the bright future that lay ahead---*our* 
future.  


AT SUPPER I looked across the table at Neil, who gazed at me so 
intently, a perpetual grin on his face, I proceeded to butter my hand.  

        He laughed, and David said, “Interesting habit, Christy.  Some new 
beauty treatment?  Like lemon juice for bleaching freckles?”

        “Butter keeps your hands soft,” I returned his banter to hide my 
embarrassment.  

        “I didn’t know you were such an authority on ladies’ beauty secrets, 
Reverend,” Neil added.

        “Well, it wasn’t until Miss Huddleston came here.  All I used to hear, 
whether they knew it or not, was Ruby Mae asking Christy about lemons 
and perfume and scented soap... ”

        “It’s been a lovely spring, hasn’t it?” Ida broke in, a bit white from 
her brother’s less-than-choice topic of discussion.

        “Nice weather for you trip, Neil,” said Miss Alice, “which we have not 
yet heard about.  Was all well for you?”

        “Oh, yes,” Neil replied, looking at me that way once again, and just as 
before, it flustered me. 

        I was setting down my water glass  when I caught his eye;  I dropped 
it, soaking my skirt.  Startled by suddenly being wet, I jumped to my 
feet, upsetting Ida’s water and falling over my chair.   David seemed 
amused, and Neil was doubled-over.  At the moment I could have killed 
him.

        “Thou art a bit preoccupied this evening, Miss Huddleston,” said Miss 
Alice, a twinkle in her eyes.

        I just stood there, blushing, feeling absolutely foolish, when Neil 
stood up, came over to me, and put his arm around my waist.  

        “Christy and I have an announcement,”  he explained.  His contagious 
smile grew broader as he looked at me .  “Today I asked Christy to marry 
me, and she said yes!”

        “I suspected that might have been the reason for your somewhat giddy 
behavior---” Miss Alice said, coming over and embracing me.  
“---both of thee!  But such an announcement brings me great joy!  I know 
the Lord has given the two of the a wonderful friendship and love for 
one another, and you will have a happy marriage!”

        David was giving Neil a hardy handshake and clap on the back.  “You’re 
a lucky man, Doctor.  She’s a remarkable woman.”  There was nothing of 
resentment in his tone, only genuine pleasure in his friend’s happiness. 

        “I know she is,” Neil replied, gazing at me lovingly.  

        “This is cause for a celebration,” Ida said.  “I’m glad I made a 
special cake today.”

        As his sister cleared the table and scurried off to the kitchen, David 
inquired, “Will you be married here in the Cove?”

        Neil looked to me; we hadn’t discussed the details of our marriage, but 
I quickly answered, “Yes.”

        “You don’t want the wedding to be in Asheville at your family’s 
church?” Neil asked, surprised.

        I wrinkled my nose.  “No, not at all.  You’ve lived here all your life; 
these are your people.  And this is my home now.  I love everything and 
everyone here, and I can’t imagine anything but a mountain wedding.”

        Neil just nodded and smiled---a bit amused, it seemed to me, as if 
there was some joke of which I was not aware.   “Well, then,” David 
replied, “this will be a wedding ceremony I’ll look forward to 
performing.”

“Christy,” Neil said after we had finished eating Ida’s delicious cake, 
“it’s early yet.  Let’s ride over to Aunt Hattie’s and tell her the 
news.  She’ll never forgive me if the rest of the rest of the Cove finds 
out first.”

        I agreed, and we were off.  What a perfect evening!  The purplish 
silhouette of the mountains against the backdrop of a sun just beginning 
to set, the countryside alive and vibrant, seemingly joining in Neil’s 
and my happiness.  How good it was to be alive!  How wonderful to love!  

        I let go of Neil with my left hand so I could admire the ring he had so 
lovingly put there.  He smiled over his shoulder at me, then reached 
back and took my hand.  

        “You know,” I said at last, “I’ve always wondered what a man said to a 
girl’s father when he wanted to marry her.  What did you say to Daddy, 
Neil?”  

        “Well,” Neil replied slowly.  “Fathers are very protective and 
possessive of their daughters.”

        “Especially mine,” I laughed.  “If I was forty years old he would still 
call me his Girlie.”  

        “And I knew that, too,” he continued.  “So I had to carefully plan what 
would be the most convincing way for me to ask him for your hand.”

        “Which was?”

        “I’m getting there, my impatient lass,” Neil replied with a chuckle.  
“I told your father that you were the most wonderful woman in the world; 
that I knew I wasn’t worthy of you but loved you with all my heart, and 
that somehow, you loved me, too.”

        “Oh, so you used flattery to gain my father’s approval?” I asked 
teasingly.

        “It worked, didn’t it?” he rejoined.

        “Yes,” I nodded, “but I’m sure Daddy fully approved of you anyway.  
Where you scared?”

        “I wasn’t scared of your father; the fact that we got along so well 
when your family was here last winter made it much easier. But I was 
still terrified he wouldn’t consent---especially when he looked at me 
straight in the eye and asked how old I was.”

        I was horrified.  “He asked you that?!”

        Neil nodded.  “Just as I was beginning to grow easier about gaining his 
approval, he flung that question at me.”

        “What did you do?”

        “I admitted that I’m thirty-four---then watched, on the verge of 
screaming from the torment of waiting, as he stared into space, with a 
look in his eyes that told me he was a little concerned that I’m so much 
older than you.”

        “Thirty-four isn’t old,” I said.  

        “Maybe not, but to a father of a twenty-year-old daughter, thirty-four 
is a little frightening; I could see him thinking, ‘Fourteen years.  
He’s fourteen years older than my daughter.’ Finally I mumbled something 
about how you mature you were for one so young, and your father smiled 
and said, ‘Yes, but she’s still a little girl in so many ways.’ ”

        “Typical,” I muttered, a bit annoyed.  “Do you think of me as a little 
girl, Neil?”

        “You’re sweet and innocent and unpretentious and full of life, and it’s 
all part of your charm,” he answered, kissing my hand.  “But no, lass, I 
don’t think of you as a little girl.  You’ve accomplished too much and 
taught me too much for me to think that way of you.”  Then he added, “Do 
you think of me as an old country doctor?”

        “Of course not!” I cried.  “I promise you I don’t.”

        Neil laughed.  “Well, then, I can rest easily now.”  He fell silent for 
a moment, then said,  “Finally, your father said, ‘You love her, Doctor, 
and you’ll take care of her?’ I promised him I would, and he said, ‘Then 
I’ll be please to call you son.’  I finally felt that I could breath 
again!”

        I laughed, then Neil said, “Actually, I was more afraid of your 
mother’s response to my wanting to marry you.  She’s so refined, and I 
got the impression she didn’t find Cutter Gap or its doctor exactly to 
her liking.  She was very kind, though, and gave me a warm and sincere 
welcome into your family.”

        I rose up and kissed Neil’s jaw, then nestled closer against him.  
About that time we had reached Hattie’s cabin, and we dismounted and 
went inside.  Hattie was thrilled---not a bit surprised, either---when 
Neil and I told her we were going to marry.  And I, too, received a warm 
and sincere welcome into my new family.    
               
********************************************************************
Chapter:  Fifteen
Summary:  Christy spends some time in Asheville.
********************************************************************

"The Joy of the Children", Chapter Fifteen

NEIL AND I decided to set the wedding date for the beginning of August, 
much to Mother’s horror when I telephoned to tell her.

        “Christy Rudd Huddleston!” she cried.  “Four months is hardly 
sufficient time to plan a wedding!”

        I argued that since the wedding would take place in Cutter Gap, it 
would not require as much effort as an elaborate city wedding, and she 
finally was convinced, but only after I promised her I would come to 
Asheville that very week, during the six week vacation, so I could find 
a wedding dress and be given a bridal shower.  

        “Although such short notice for a bridal shower is hardly 
conventional,” Mother sighed.  

        “Just make sure to tell the guests not to give me anything impractical.  
Remember, Neil lives in a cabin, not an Asheville mansion.”

        So, three days later Neil took me to the El Pano Station.

        “You shouldn’t be going alone,” he said anxiously as we waited for the 
train.

        “I’m a big girl, Neil,” I smiled, giving his hand a squeeze. “You don’t 
have to worry about me.”

        “I’ll always worry about you when you’re out of my sight., lass.  But 
I’ll join you in Asheville for a day or so before you leave so you don’t 
have to come back alone, as well.”

        The train pulled up to the station then, and after a quick kiss, we 
parted.

        Six hours later, when I arrived in the city, I was greeted by Mother 
(Daddy was at work and George in school), and whisked off to a 
seamstress friend of hers, Mrs. Jones, to see about my wedding dress.  
We poured through magazines and pattern books for hours, it seemed, and 
I did not find anything to my liking.  The gowns were all very elegant, 
but in my opinion, they were to elaborate to be pretty---almost gaudy.  
And none would do for my mountain wedding.

        Mother and Mrs. Jones were both very patient as I rejected dress after 
dress, but at last Mother cried, exasperated, “Christy, must you be so 
particular?  These are beautiful dresses.  Look at this one.  I can just 
picture you wearing it.”  She pointed to a gown with huge puffed sleeves 
and a train at least seven feet long.

        I wrinkled my nose at the picture and turned to Mrs. Jones.  “I’m 
looking for something much simpler---delicate and pretty.”  I did not 
feel that was much of an explanation, but Mrs. Jones’ face lit up in 
understanding. 

         “Oh, I know just what you need!  I knew from the moment I saw you the 
type of dress that would suit you, but I thought you’d want to see one 
of these.”  She stacked up the books and hid them away in a cupboard, 
then pulled out a sheet of paper and a pencil.  “All the young ladies 
nowadays like these fancy, frilly gowns.  But what do you think of 
this?”

        Mrs. Jones had sketched just the wedding gown I had envisioned: simple, 
delicate, and pretty as I had told her.

        “It’s perfect!”  I cried, and Mother agreed.

        “I know just the veil to make, also!”  Mrs. Jones was nearly giddy with 
excitement.  She took my measurements and said she would make the 
pattern that evening.  I was to come back the following day to make sure 
it was an exact fit.  I left the seamstress’ shop in much higher spirits 
than I had had a few minutes before.

        “Oh, look, Christy!” cried Mother, peering in a shop window as we 
walked home.  “That dress would be lovely on you!”

        I sighed, then, burying my indignation at Mother’s obsession with 
dresses, looked at the dress.  It was a white sailor-style summer dress 
with a navy blue tie, sash, and trim around the skirt and wide collar.  
I loved it, too, and Mother and I went inside the dress shop.  Giving in 
to my femininity, I allowed Mother to buy  it for me, along with two 
others.  I was satisfied, but inside I couldn’t help but feel a little 
guilty about having three new dresses and soon, a wedding gown.  The 
Cutter Gap women . . .  

        But I did not have time to dwell on it.  Mother kept me occupied every 
minute of my visit home.  Friends called every day, or we went calling. 
Mother brought out my hope chest, and after my bridal shower, we had 
filled it and another trunk with everything I would need in my new home.   
It was a little difficult for me to picture Neil’s rustic, manly cabin 
with lace table runners, porcelain and crystal candlesticks, and pretty 
dishes, but I liked them all the same.  For the most part, however, the 
ladies heeded mother’s advice and gave me useful gifts, though, in 
comparison to the Cove, they were a bit on the extravagant side of 
practical. 

        I had never in my life felt more spoiled than during my fortnight in 
Asheville.  The home of my childhood, though not so grand as some of the 
houses in Asheville, felt like a palace compared to Cutter Gap.   It 
felt so strange to be back in a place where every need was met in 
abundance without so much as a thought about how the need would be 
fulfilled.  Everyone had everything---and more.  Everyone was gay and 
carefree and happy.  Nothing had changed here, but I was now strangely 
detached from the world I had known.   I realized, though with little 
disappointment, that Asheville was no longer my home.  

        Near the end of my stay, Mrs. Jones had finished my gown and called at 
home to deliver it.  I gasped as she took it out of the brown paper in 
which it was wrapped and spread it out before me.  It was so beautiful!  

        “Go try it on, Christy,” Mother urged, “so we can see how it looks.”

        I took the dress up to my room, and slipped the satin and lace folds 
over my head.  I could not help but smile as I looked at my reflection 
in the mirror.  the low-cut, square neckline of the satin bodice was 
overlaid with a lace yoke, which fell over my shoulders, not quite to my 
elbows.  A gauzy layer with delicate lace designs worked through it 
covered the skirt, and a satin sash, tied in a bow in the back, topped 
the train  which spread gracefully on the floor.  Oh, it was so perfect!  
I giggled dizzily as I thought how soon I would wear this when I was 
Neil’s bride . . .

        Careful not to step on the flowing skirts, I went downstairs to show 
the dress to Mother and Mrs. Jones.             “Lovely, if I do say so myself,” 
smiled Mrs. Jones.  Then she took out a smaller parcel.  “This is the 
veil.”  

        It was a circlet of blue violets, just the kind that would be blooming 
in Cutter Gap in July, with several feet of lace attached to the back.  
Mrs. Jones placed it on my head, and Mother burst into tears.  

        “I just can’t get used to you being all grown up, Christy!  I didn’t 
fully believe it until I saw you in that dress!  But I’m so proud of 
you!”  She embraced me, then said, “Go take this off right now, before 
something happens to it.”


FEELING a little guilty about acquiring so much during my nearly two 
weeks in Asheville, one afternoon, when I had a little time to myself, I 
went to buy some gifts for my friends in the Cove.  Opal’s wedding would 
be soon, and Ruby Mae’s baby was due in June.  Then there was Aunt 
Hattie (she had told me to call her Aunt now, since I was marrying her 
nephew) and Miss Alice and Ida, and I wanted to get something for Neil.  
My only trouble was what I would give each of them.  I wanted my 
presents to be special, meaningful . . . And I was determined to find 
just the right thing for each of them, if I had to look in every shop in 
Asheville.  

        I found a sweet baby dress to give to Ruby Mae, but so she wouldn’t 
feel that I was only thinking of her child, I bought her a sachet and a 
small bottle of perfume.  Opal, what would I give Opal?  Spying a lovely 
sewing box with spools of brightly colored threads and flosses, 
thimbles, scissors---every imaginable item used for sewing, I remembered 
that Miss Alice had been teaching her to embroider, so I bought her the 
kit.  Bath salts and scented soap, too---just for the sake of 
femininity.  For Hattie I purchased a shawl with pretty fringe and a 
rosebud design worked all through it.  She would love to have me 
describe it vividly to her, and I could just see how she would smile 
when she wore it over her shoulders.  A new tea-service set for Ida!  
Ideal!  I found a beautiful set with a pansy pattern, and then got a big 
book of piano music for her; she had often remarked how she would like 
some new music to learn.  Across the street I spied a candy shop, and I 
thought at once of the children; I left the shop with enough lemon 
drops, peppermints, and licorice to feed a small army!  

        Now for Miss Alice.   Her gift had to be really special.  But what?  I 
walked along the sidewalks in front of the shops, deep in thought, when 
something caught my eye.  I looked in the window and saw crystal 
ornaments hanging where they would catch the sunlight, scattering colors 
across the dark wood of the windowpane.  I went inside fore a closer 
look, and as I admired the elegant crystal flowers and animals, I 
considered possibly getting one for Miss Alice.  I picked up a dove, 
when I saw, hanging next to it, a cross.  That was it!  Miss Alice would 
love it!  The cross was the symbol of her mission, her life, her Lord!  

        Back outside with my newest purchase, I knew what my last gift would 
be.  Ever since he had become a Christian, Neil poured over his father’s  
Bible.  He faithfully brought it to church every Sunday, but it was so 
ragged and worn.  My gift to Neil would be a new Bible.  I knew He would 
treasure that more than anything else in the world.  So, I bought him a 
beautiful leather-bound one, with his name etched in gold letters on the 
corner of the cover.  
 
        At last, I thought with a sigh as I left the store where I bought 
Neil’s Bible, at last I can finally go home!  And I don’t want to spend 
another cent!  Though my latest purchases had been for others, I still 
felt a twinge of guilt that I had so much money to spend.  I had spent 
more money today than the people back in Cutter Gap could ever dream of 
having at one time.  

        My packages were so cumbersome, I hailed a cab to take me home.  I 
laughed to myself at this little indulgence as I climbed in to carriage.  
Why, I had walked seven miles in the snow to get to the mission house 
nearly a year-and-half ago, and here I was in a cab because I could not 
handle walking with a few parcels for the several blocks to my parents’ 
house.  How utterly silly!  If I stayed in the city much longer, I was 
going to completely lose my mind.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter:  Sixteen
Summary:  Neil comes to Asheville.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


"The Joy of the Children", Chapter Sixteen:

THE NEXT DAY, Saturday, my father, George and I went to the train 
station.  Neil was due to arrive any minute now, and I paced back and 
forth anxiously.  I had put on my new dress---the sailor dress---and 
wore my hair in a long French braid with a navy blue ribbon tied at the 
end.  Would Neil notice?  Oh, I didn’t care.  I just wanted him to 
arrive!  Why was the train not yet here?  It was supposed to come right 
now!  

        “You’re not anxious to see the Doctor, are you Girlie?” Father asked, 
grinning.

        “I’m going to scream if that train doesn’t get here in the next---”  
The shrill blast of a train window cut me off.

        “He’s here!” I cried, then checked myself.  Really, Christy, you’re 
acting quite childish.  Neil would tease you dreadfully if he could see 
you now!

        The train slowed to a halt, and the passengers began to disembark.  I 
scanned the crowd for Neil.  Where was he?  Was that---no, it wasn’t.  
There! Just stepping off the train, dressed in a brown suit.  (Very 
becoming, I thought.)  He’s here!  Without another thought, I ran to 
him, and he caught me in an affectionate embrace.  

        “I love your welcomes, lass,” he said, kissing me.  Then, his eyes 
sweeping me, “You’re always so beautiful, Christy.  Is that a new 
dress?”

        He noticed!  I nodded and seized his hand, just as Father and George 
approached.  

        “Hello, Doctor,” Father greeted, shaking Neil’s free hand.  “Please 
don’t take it personally that George and I did not run to greet you as 
Christy did.  We are glad to see you.”

        “Yeah,” George added.  “Christy’s been moping around the whole time 
she’s been here.”

        “I have not,” I retorted, but then I felt embarrassed about engaging in 
a sibling squabble in front of my fiancee.              “Well, shall we be off?” my 
Father asked.  “George, take Neil’s bag for him.”

        “I can get it; it’s not heavy” Neil protested. 

        “I insist.  What kind of host would I be to make my guest---not to 
mention future son-in-law---carry his own bag?” Father said.  He 
chuckled and added, “Besides, it’s awkward trying to walk with both 
hands occupied.

        As we walked home, Father and George just ahead of us, I bombarded Neil 
with questions about the Cove.  

        “Nothing out of the ordinary has happened since you left, and 
everyone’s busy planting.  There haven’t been any accidents, hardly 
anyone ill, but there was a set of twins born over in Low Gap.  I did 
have quite a time delivering those,” he commented.  “Not as bad as the 
mother, though.”

        “What happened?”

        “They were big, and one was breech.”

        “Oh, the poor woman!”

        “Aye,” Neil nodded.  “But she’s doing fine now.”

        George said, over his shoulder, “It’s a good thing Mom isn’t here, 
Christy.  She’d bawl you out for talking about delivering babies.  It’s 
not delicate.”

        “Actually, that’s one of the most delicate things I’ve encountered in 
Cutter Gap, and ‘indelicacy’ is just a part of life that the rest of the 
world’s going to have to learn to live with.”  I turned to Neil again 
and asked,  “So other than the twins everything’s been going well?”

        “I suppose,” he said with a shrug.  “Though it’s been very lonely 
without you.”

        I squeezed his hand.  “I’ve missed you, too.”   

        We passed a jeweler’s shop, and Neil stopped walking and turned back to 
it.  “You know what, Christy?  We need to get our wedding rings.”

        I called out to Father and George and told them of our errand.  
        “Do you want us to wait for you?” Father asked.

        “No, that’s all right, Daddy.  You two can go on ahead.”

        “I think it’s just an excuse so they can be alone,” George whispered 
loudly to Father.  To Neil he said, “Be careful what you look at with 
Christy.  She’s very expensive.”

        “Go, George!” I cried, feeling a little embarrassed.  “Tell Mother 
we’ll be home as soon as we can.”

        They left, and not long after that, Neil and I were on our way to my 
parents’ house with our rings.  Strangely, even though the date was set, 
I wore Neil’s engagement ring, and had bridal gifts, my gown, and now 
the wedding bands, I still could not believe that we were really going 
to be married---and in less than four months!  

        Mother greeted us at the front door, and held out her arms to embrace 
Neil.  Her demonstration of motherly acceptance touched me, and I could 
see it did Neil, too.  

        “Welcome, Neil!  I’m very happy you were able to come.”  She smiled and 
continued excitedly, “And I have a wonderful surprise!  My mother and 
Christy’s aunts and uncles and cousins---from both sides of the 
family---are coming to dinner this evening!  They’re very anxious to 
meet you, Neil, especially since they won’t be able to make it to Cutter 
Gap for the wedding.”  

        I received Mother’s news with mixed feelings.  It had been a long time 
since I had seen my relatives, but I was growing weary of company.  
        “I’d love to sit and chat, but I have much to attend to, so you’ll have 
to excuse me,” she was saying.

        “Do you need any help, Mother?”

        “Yes, darling, I would appreciate it.  But why don’t you show Neil to 
his room first?”

        I took him upstairs to the guest room, then walked across the hall to 
my room to put the rings with the rest of my wedding things, which 
filled several trunks, neatly stacked just inside.

        “Are all of these going back with us to the Cove?” Neil had come to the 
door and was looking at the trunks, a bit amused.  He continued, in 
reply to my nod, and stepped inside for a better look. “Well, I’m glad I 
took the mission wagon to El Pano.  But three big trunks, Christy?”

        “And my suitcase and a little trunk,” I added.  “Only one of the trunks 
is my things; these two are wedding gifts and some things from Mother.”

        “And you are a woman, and women do not pack lightly,” he teased.  
“What’s in this small one?”

        I smiled shyly, and replied, “It’s my wedding dress.”

        Neil grinned.  “I cannot wait until the day  you wear that!” 
 
        I just smiled and handed him a wrapped box, the one containing the 
Bible I had bought him.  “This is for you.”

        He lifted the lid and held the Bible in his hands.  “Thank you, 
Christy,” he said sincerely.  “I could not have asked for a more perfect 
gift.”

        Opening the precious Book, he found the note I had tucked inside.

        “Just like you---pretty and proper,” he remarked with a half-smile, 
observing the feminine stationary on which the note was written.  “It 
even smells like your perfume.”

        I turned away self-consciously as he read the note.

        "Dear Neil,"  I had written.   “Proverbs Two says, ‘Yea, if thou criest 
after knowledge and liftest up thy voice for understanding; if thou 
seekest her as silver and searchest for her as for hid treasures; then 
shalt thou understand the fear of the Lord and find the knowledge of 
God.’  When I read that, I thought of you---how you’ve come to love the 
Lord, how you are constantly reading His word and are growing more and 
more like God every day.  I also came across the first two verses of 
Psalm Fourty-two: ‘As the hart panteth after the water brooks, so 
panteth my soul after Thee, O God.  My soul thirsteth for God, for the 
living God.’  Your relationship with Him is so evident in your life!  I 
see you thirsting and hungering to know Him more.  I rejoice to see you 
growing in Him and to be able to grow with you!  I am so happy that I 
will soon be your wife!  You are my best friend in the world, and I am 
so glad to share the rest of my life with you!  I love you so much, 
Neil!
Your, 
Christy
        
“I shall treasure this always, lass,” Neil said sincerely.  Then he 
asked, “And what is this, Miss Huddleston?” 

        I turned to him, and my eyes grew round with embarrassment when I saw 
the paper he was holding before me.  While I had been writing my note to 
him, I had taken out another sheet and filled it with “Christy MacNeill” 
and “Mrs. Neil MacNeill”.  And now Neil was holding it!  I had put it 
inside the Bible with the note by accident!

        Feeling absolutely ridiculous, I snatched the paper from Neil’s hand as 
he laughed lustily.  

        “At least we’re engaged, lass!  It’s not as if you were a school girl 
writing her name with that of some boy she simply admired!  You will, 
very soon, be Christy MacNeill!”

        I laughed with him then, as he drew me to him and kissed me ardently.
        
         
MOTHER’S GARDEN was so tranquil and enchanting in the moonlight.  It had 
been a wonderful evening with Grandmother Rudd and all my other 
relatives; they were all jovial and liked Neil immensely, and one of my 
cousins remarked, “Quite a catch, Christy.  Your Doctor’s handsomer than 
any of the young men around here, in a rugged, manly sort of way; I’m 
really a bit envious.”   

        However,  I was glad they had all gone, for the constant activity of 
the past two weeks was beginning to catch up with me.

        Sitting on the swing my Father had hung in the big oak tree when I was 
a little girl, a cool breeze caressing me, I began to feel my weariness 
ebb.  What healing a little solitude could sometimes bring!  

        The sound of a twig breaking startled me, and I turned around to see 
Neil, one of the deep red roses in his hand.

        “I hope your mother won’t be offended that I stole a rose,” he said, 
gently tucking it into my braid.  

        I smiled him, then turned back to gaze at the moon.

        “You know,” Neil began, gently pulling the swing back, then releasing 
it, “I can’t help but think how you should have all this, Christy---a 
fine house, friends, fancy parties, all the new dresses you could want . 
. .”
        He chuckled softly, and I blushed.  “That was just a tiny indulgence of 
my ‘feminine fancy’, if I may borrow your term, Dr. MacNeill.”

        “All teasing aside, lass, you’ve made such a sacrifice; do you really 
want to give it all up for Cutter Gap and this poor doctor?”

        I put my feet down to stop the swing, rose, and looked up into his 
face.  “I’m dying to go back, Neil.  This isn’t home any more.  And 
don’t you know yet that I love you infinitely more than any house or 
party or dress?”

        I laid my head against his chest as he held me to him and kissed my 
hair.  “I believe you, lass.  But I can’t help thinking what a 
remarkable woman you are, and how lucky I am that you should love me.”

        Not as lucky as me, I thought.  

        Neil sighed deeply, and I knew that he knew my unspoken words. 


SATURDAY found Neil and me on the train to El Pano.  As the train pulled 
away from the Asheville station, I heaved a heavy sigh of relief.

        “We’ll be home in six hours, lass,” Neil said with understanding, 
taking my right hand and twining his big fingers through my small ones.  

        I gave him a smile and rested my head on his shoulder, closing my eyes.  
When I opened them again, I saw the mountains outside the window and 
knew it would not be long before we reached El Pano.  I hadn’t moved 
yet, so Neil did not know I had awakened.  He was reading his Bible, and 
I watched him for a few minutes before I sat up.

        “Did you have a nice nap, Christy?”

        “Um,” I nodded.  “How long did I sleep?”

        “Most of the way,” he grinned, moving his hand to rub my stiff neck.  
“We should be in El Pano in about half an hour.”

        I gazed out at my beloved mountains the rest of the time, and true to 
Neil’s word, thirty minutes later we were stepping off the train.  And 
after all our trunks and various other baggage was loaded onto the 
mission’s harvester wagon, we drove the final seven miles to the mission 
house.

        The minute we set food inside, I was greeted by Miss Alice most of the 
women from the Cove.  

        “Surprise, Miz Christy!” Ruby Mae cried, pulling me to the center of 
the parlor.  Neil, winking knowingly at me, slipping from the room.  
“Walcome t’ yer bridal shower!”

        Miss Alice stepped forward and said, “The ladies all wanted to do 
something in honor of your upcoming marriage.”

        “We didn’t want t’ be outdone by none o’ them city wimmin,” Opal said 
softly.  “An’ we know our gift’s ain’t as fancy as yer used to, but we 
all brought ye things that’ll come in real handy.”

        I was presented with jars of preserves, jellies, apple butter, honey, 
(and sauerkraut), and beeswax candles.  Granny Barclay had taken up 
weaving again and made several beautiful mats, a blanket, and a runner 
for the mantle.  

        Clara and Zady Spencer came forward, holding a quilt with a gorgeous 
sun design.  “Mama was a-makin’ this fer ye afore she went,” Clara 
explained.  “Said that she’d always remember that ye learned her t’ read 
the word “light”, and that she wanted t’ thank ye fer hit.  Miss Alice 
holped Zady an’ me finish it so’s we could give it t’ ye t’day.”

        “Thank you so much!” I said, my eyes brimming with tears.  “This quilt 
is the most beautiful one I’ve ever seen, and I will think of you girls 
and your mama every time I look at it.”  

        The last gift was from Opal---a cookbook.  She had painstakingly copied 
hundreds of recipes in her best script on clean, white sheets of paper, 
then sewn them together between a cover made of pretty cloth over heavy 
cardboard.  

        “It’s wonderful, Opal!  Thank you!”

        Opal beamed at my praise, and I couldn’t help but notice how happy and 
alive she had seemed these past several months.  It was amazing how God 
had healed the wounds of this formerly pitiful woman.

        “Ladies,” came Miss Alice’s voice above the chatter, “shall we take 
some refreshment?  Miss Ida has very graciously prepared tea and cakes 
and sandwiches, which look delicious.  And perhaps while we eat, we 
could take turns reading a story from the Bible.”

        We read from the book of Ruth, and after we had finished, and the women 
were beginning to leave, Ruby Mae sighed.  “Didn’t know thar was sech a 
story in the Bible!  Right fine romancin’ in hit---jest like in the 
Cove!”

        “By the way, Miz Christy,” Opal quietly broke in.  (I still could not 
persuade her not to call me “miss”.)  “Bird’s Eye ’n’ me’ll be wed in 
near about a week now.”

        “So soon?”

        “We don’t have nothin’ much t’ do ’fore hand.  Jest got t’ find me 
somethin’ nice t’ wear.  Uncle Bogg---he’s so thoughtful, Miz 
Christy---he give me some cash money he’d had stored up, ’n’ he telled 
me t’ git something fer my weddin’.  Will ye---will ye holp me find 
somethin’, Miz Christy?  Maybe---do ye have any o’ them city dresses 
left that was in the mission store?  I’d shorely like a store boughten 
dress.”

        “I’m sure we do,” I smiled.  “We’ll look later.”

        “Miz Christy,”  Ruby Mae said.  “Doc and Preacher took a heap o’ trunks 
up t’ yer room.  That be yer bridal pretties?”

        “Yes, some of them are.”

        “Will ye show us?” the girl begged.  “I’m rightly achin’ t’ see what 
kinds o’ things them fancy city wimmin give fer presents!”

        Eagerly, I grabbed both Opal and Ruby Mae by the hand and pulled them 
toward the stairs.  “Come on!”  My two friends were in raptures over the 
contents of my trunks.  

        “Everything’s so fancy-fine,” Opal sighed dreamily, fingering a lace 
table runner.

        “Well, considering that you’re a bride-to-be as well, Opal,” I said, “I 
brought you a gift.  And Ruby Mae, here’s something for you and your 
baby.”

        I had never seen anyone more delighted than Ruby Mae and Opal when they 
received those presents.  The former bounced around my room and giggled 
in typical fifteen-year-old fashion, and the latter burst into tears.

        “No one never did nothin’ so nice fer me!”  She said, throwing her arms 
around my neck.  “Yer sech a friend, Miz Christy!  Sech a friend!”


“HATTIE?”  I knocked on the frame of her open cabin door.       “Is that my 
Christy?”  Her voice was weak.

        “Yes it is,” I replied, going over to her.  She sat in her rocking 
chair, very pale, her face drawn as if she was pain.  “Are you all 
right, Hattie?”

        “I haven’t been feelin’ real well today; that’s why I didn’t make it to 
yer bridal shower.  I’m real sorry about that, Christy . . .”

        “Don’t worry yourself over that.  What’s wrong?  Do you need me to go 
for Neil?”

        “It ain’t nothin’ serious,” Hattie said.  “My head’s jest been achin’ 
somethin’ fierce.”  She shivered slightly.  “Could I trouble you to 
fetch my sweater, Christy?  It’s hangin’ on a hook in the bedroom.”

        “Well,” I answered, unwrapping the pretty shawl I had brought her, “how 
about this?”  I took one of her hands so she could feel it.  “It’s a 
black silk shawl with a red rose pattern.  I saw it in Asheville, and I 
just had to get it for you, because it reminded me of you, and you are 
such a dear friend of mine.”

        She smiled as I draped it over her shoulders.  “ Yer real sweet, 
Christy.  Why, it makes me feel like a fancy lady!”

        There was a knock at the door then, and Neil came in.  “I hear you’re 
not feeling well, Hattie.”

        “Just an achin’ in my head,” she said mildly.  “You don’t need to worry 
none.”

        “Hello, lass,” he said to me, as he knelt in front of his aunt’s chair 
to examine her.  “Fetch me a cup of water and a cool cloth, please.”

        I obeyed, and Hattie said proudly, “Do you like my new shawl, Neil?  
Christy brought it to me from the city.”

        “You look beautiful in it, Hattie.  It suits you very well,” he smiled.  
He rose and gently cradled her head in his strong, gentle hands, rubbing 
her throbbing temples.  “What have you been up to these last few days?  
Something has certainly worn you out.”

        “I went traipsin’ with Opal McHone yesterday.  We picked berries and 
stayed out all day.”

        “Did you sit out on your porch last night like you sometimes do?”
        “Yes, fer a long time.  It was real peaceful.”

        “Were you wearing your sweater?”

        “No, I forgot it.  Got to listenin’ to the sounds and prayin’.”

        “Well,” Neil said, giving her the water.  “I think you might be 
catching a cold.  I want you to drink lots of water.  Is that soup over 
on your stove?”

        Hattie nodded, as Neil placed the cool rag on her forehead, still  
massaging her temples.

        “Christy will heat some up for you.  Then you must go straight to bed.”

        “Oh, Neil,” she started to protest, but Neil cut her off.

        “Doctor’s orders.  Rest will help you to stay well; you’ve been sick 
too much this last year, and a cold is the last thing you need, Hattie.  
I can’t be having my dear Aunt always in her bed.”

        After Hattie had eaten some soup, I helped her to bed.  “I’ll come see 
you tomorrow,” I promised, then left her.  

        I found Neil waiting out on the front porch.  “Ready to go?”  I 
cheerfully asked. 

        He nodded and cast a worried glance back at Hattie’s door.

        “You’re worried about her aren’t you, Neil?”

        “Aye, a little,” he said, and I thought I saw tears in his eyes.  “I 
don’t want to lose her, Christy.  She’s my last relative and has always 
been my favorite.”  

        I grabbed his hand and squeezed it, and he smiled.

        “I’m probably a bit over-anxious because Hattie’s not been in good 
health for a while.  Battles with typhoid and trachoma have left her 
body weak, even after.  It was kind of you to remember her, Christy; 
she’s very proud of that shawl,  and she loves you, too, you know.”

        “Too?”  I repeated, arching my eyebrows.

        “Yes, too!” he laughed, placing a kiss on my neck.  “Don’t you remember 
that I love you?”

        Nodding, I replied, “I just wanted to hear you say it!”

        “Sly lass.”  Neil shook his head and ran his fingers through his ever 
unruly curls.  “What am I going to do with you?”

        “I don’t know, but here’s something to remember when you’re wondering:  
I love *you*!” 
**********************************************************************

Chapter:  Seventeen
Summary:  A wedding and a mission meeting.
**********************************************************************

"The Joy of the Children", Chapter Seventeen

BIRD’S EYE and Opal were married a week later, and I had never seen a 
more beautiful wedding.  It was their pure,  simple love that made it 
beautiful, and the perfect picture of forgiveness and reconciliation.  
Bird’s Eye, former feuder and moonshiner, was so gentle and peaceful, 
truly growing in his walk with the Lord, his face glowing with love for 
his Savior and bride.  And Opal was so happy, smiling and beaming in the 
pale blue silk dress she had chosen from the mission store, a wreath of 
daisies in her hair. 
        After David had performed the ceremony and everyone had their fill of 
the bountiful feast, however, the mountain traditions began.  
        “Dancin’!  Dancin’!”  Uncle Bogg called out as Jeb tuned his fiddle.  
“Doc, ye’n Miz Christy better be gittin’ over in th’ circle right nows!”  
        I looked up from my conversation with Mary Allen, and my eyes met 
Neil’s from across the yard.  
        “Come on!”  Uncle Bogg waved his arms wildly.  “Don’t ye know we really 
had this weddin’ so’s we could see ye dancin’?  Doc’n Teacher’s always 
somethin’ t’ be beholdin’!”
        Laughter roared throughout the Taylor yard, and Neil and I obligingly 
joined the circle.
        “Here we are again,” Neil said, swinging me as the music began.  
        After a while I noticed, just as I had at Ruby Mae’s wedding, that the 
circle of dancers was getting smaller.  I glanced around and saw a 
cluster of women around Opal.  The shivaree!  It still made me cringe.
        “I’m afraid I’ll never get used to all the mountain wedding 
traditions,” I commented to Neil.
        His eyes twinkled.  “I hope you get used to it soon; our mountain 
wedding is not far away.”
        Those words hit me like a load of bricks.  I stopped dancing and backed 
out of the circle. 
        “No!  I don’t want---Neil MacNeill, I refuse to be shivareed!”
        Neil laughed loudly.  “I knew you would, and I also knew when you said 
you wanted a mountain wedding the shivaree custom never once crossed 
your mind.  I wondered when---or if---you’d ever remember it and what 
you’d say.  It’s not a topic you like to discuss, if I recall your 
reaction at Ruby Mae’s wedding.”
        “But Neil,” I protested, horrified at the thought of being shivarreed.  
“Can’t we just skip that custom?”
        “Well, the mountain people would never understand; they wouldn’t 
consider us properly married.”
        I was on the verge of bursting out in tears.  “Please, Neil...”
        “Hush, lass, I’m just teasing you,” he smiled, putting his finger to my 
lips.  “I don’t want to be shivareed, either, so we won’t.  What, do you 
think anyone could drag *me* up the mission house stairs?”
        “They could drag *me*.”
        “Aye, but do you think I would let them?  Don’t worry about it, 
Christy;  nobody will shivaree us---I’ll see to that.  Before they can 
catch us, we’ll be galloping away on Charlie to our cabin, just you and 
me.”  
        Neil grabbed my hands and pulled me back to the circle.  “Come on, 
lass, let’s finish our dance!”


“NEIL, I think it’s time you had some help around here,”  Miss Alice 
said that evening, when we were back at the mission.  “The load you 
carry is too much for one man.  Now I know thee has carried it alone for 
years now, but thee must now think about the fact that you will soon 
have someone besides yourself to care for.”  She smiled.  “You spend 
half the nights out of the year on calls, and I do not imagine that 
either you or Christy will enjoy that for every year of your lives.”
        “I agree with you, Alice,” Neil replied, taking my hand.  “It would be 
a big help to have another physician.  But what do you propose we do 
about it?  Do you know of someone who would take the job?”
        “As a matter of fact, I do.”  Miss Alice’s eyes sparkled.  “Quite a few 
years ago, I spent some time in a colored community---Freedom, Kentucky, 
working with a Reverend Joseph Scott.  To make a long story short, I was 
only there a few months when I realized that I should be home raising my 
daughter.  I have always stayed in contact with Joseph and his wife and 
son Daniel.  
        “Daniel is the focus of this story.  He is an intelligent young man---a 
strong Christian.  A few years ago, while he was at Tuskegee Institute, 
studying to become a doctor, Joseph suffered a severe heart attack.  
Daniel went to him, paying a dear price to be with his father; he had to 
give up his scholarship.  Not long after he arrived home in Kentucky, 
Joseph died.  Knowing he could not hope to return to college and out of 
love for his grieving mother, Daniel remained in Freedom, taking his 
father’s place as pastor of the church.   
        “He has never given up his dream of becoming a doctor.  His mother has 
often mentioned in her letters that Daniel studies old medical texts 
every chance he can get and had quite successfully treated various 
illnesses and injuries in the community.  
        “Neil, it is my opinion that Daniel Scott is just the man for the job.  
He could work alongside you and learn as much as at any medical school.  
It would not be long before he could take over some of your calls.  What 
does thou think?”  
        The big fingers pulled at the ends of the ruddy curls as Neil pondered 
Miss Alice’s proposal.  “It sounds like a good idea, Alice, but I must 
think through everything Mr. Scott’s coming would entail.  It’s taken me 
a long time to gain the trust of these people, Alice.”  He added, almost 
embarrassed, “They’ve never seen a colored man.”
        “And what of that?”  the Quaker lady demanded.  
        “Superstitions,” Neil said.  “You know how suspicious they are of 
outsiders.  I admit they’ve come along way . . .”
        Miss Alice looked perturbed but said nothing as she waited for Neil to 
continue.
        Frustrated, he exclaimed, “Alice, I know you think very highly of your 
Daniel Scott, and I respect that, but I just cannot see how it would 
work.”
        “What can thee not see, Neil?” 
        Neil practically shouted, “He’s black!  Alice, you know that would only 
add to the trouble of getting the people to accept him here!”
        Inwardly, I felt that Neil was right, but I looked to Miss Alice, who 
asked, as serenely as ever, “Would thee have trouble accepting a black 
man as thy apprentice?”
        The Doctor stared at her.  “Of course not.”
        “Then there is nothing for you to worry about.  I believe that the Good 
Lord would work out this possible problem you have presented if it was 
His will for Daniel to come here.”  She added, “In your defense, Neil, I 
know you’ve worked long and hard to gain the people’s trust.  But they 
do trust you, and if they see that you accept Mr. Scott, I think they 
might, too.”
        Neil nodded, a contemplative expression punctuating his features.  
“You’re right, I suppose.”  He abruptly inquired,  “Is Mr. Scott 
married?”
        “He is,” Miss Alice replied.  “To a lovely woman; Cecile is her name, 
and she also happens to be a schoolteacher.”
        “Really?” I asked.  “We’ve needed another teacher for so long!  This is 
perfect!”
        Ida spoke up.  “Yes, two young teachers would be a fine thing---until 
both of you are at home taking care of babies.”  
        “I believe the Lord would work that out as well,” said Miss Alice.  
“But incidentally, last winter Cecile was pregnant with their first 
child.  She miscarried, and there were many further complications 
afterwards.  To put it plainly,   Cecile Scott is not able to have 
children.
        “She was grieved, of course, but she and Daniel both believe that God 
must have a purpose for Cecile’s not being able to bear children.  
Perhaps it is for the mission.”
        “It does appear that the Lord has opened many doors,” David added.  
“Shall we all pray about it right now?”
        The five of us gathered in a circle and bowed our heads.  After we had 
prayed for God to give us wisdom and to point us in the direction He 
wanted, Neil spoke up.
        “Alice, do you have Mr. Scott’s address?  I would like to write to him 
and offer him the position myself.”


THE TELEPHONE rang during dinner a few nights later, and Miss Alice came 
back into the dining room beaming from head to toe.
        “That was Daniel Scott who just called.”  She smiled at Neil.  “He said 
to tell you, Dr. MacNeill, that he would be delighted to accept your 
offer.  He also said that he and Cecile know that the Lord is leading 
them in the direction of Cutter Gap, and they are ready and willing to 
serve Him here!”
        Everyone was ecstatic over the news and began talking all at once.
        “When will they be coming?” David asked, raising his voice above 
everyone else’s.  
        “They will come at the end of May,” Miss Alice answered.  “And I want 
to add that I, too, wrote them a letter, describing our recent work here 
with the boarders and adult education programs.  Just now Daniel said 
that he and Cecile hoped that they would be able to be close to the 
children who stayed at the mission house.  Is this not pure Providence!  
We have enough downstairs rooms for the Scotts to have a comfortable 
home, and they can live here and care for the children!  They will be 
able to invest much care and time in the boarders since they have no 
children of their own!”
        Miss Alice grew more excited with every word.  “And, Neil, when Daniel 
is familiar enough with the people and confident enough to make calls 
alone, the two of thee can divide between you---you will have half as 
many night calls!  Oh, this is such a blessing!” 
        Neil was staring, very amused, at Miss Alice, who kept talking about 
everything we would be able to do when the Scotts arrived.  Alice 
Henderson, always the picture of a serene Quaker missionary, was 
absolutely giddy!  Finally, Neil started to laugh.  I could not contain 
it either, nor  could David or Ida.  Pretty soon all of was were rolling 
with laughter, and Miss Alice’s cheeks were crimson.  
        “I suppose I’m getting a little ahead of everything,” she said.  “I do 
not know what to say.”
        “You said it all already,” David teased her, and we all laughed 
harder---including Miss Alice.
        The five of us laughed until we cried, until we were doubled over, 
unable to breathe.  At last, when everyone had calmed down (none of us 
could laugh any more), David said, “All joking aside, Alice is right: 
only God could have planned this so perfectly.”
        “I’ll say amen to that, Reverend,” Neil replied.
        “Let us bow our heads and give thanks to the Lord!” Miss Alice 
declared.  
        And never had there been more heartfelt thanks and praise around a 
dinner table.


**********************************************************************
Chapter:  Eighteen
Summary:  All about school and the Scotts.

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

"The Joy of the Children", Chapter Eighteen:

SCHOOL BEGAN again at the beginning of May, and the boarders came back 
to the mission house, with the exception of Isaak McHone.  The boy had 
told David that he loved being there with us, but he felt he should go 
live with his mother and new father.  

        “Bird’s Eye’s a great hand at huntin’ anyways.  Been larnin’ me t’ 
shoot jest like him.  I reckon we’uns’ll git along jest fine.”

        David was very pleased that Isaak was so warmly forgiving and accepting 
Bird’s Eye, but for a few days after Isaak told him he would not be 
staying at the mission that term, he seemed a little down.  

        “Isaak was the little brother I never had,” David told me.  “All my 
life I was the little brother, and it was kind of nice to have someone 
look up to me.  It’ll be strange not having him around.”  

        However, Isaak dropped by the mission to talk with David nearly every 
day, and sometimes Bird’s Eye would invite him along when he took Isaak 
and Toot and Vincent fishing.

        Meanwhile, in school the children were making wonderful progress.  I 
was amazed at how much their reading had improved since last January.  I 
had so much fun with my younger students, reading classic children’s 
books with them and having them write their own stories.  I used 
creative drills and games to make arithmetic less tedious for them, and 
some of the students, especially the boys, were solving long addition 
and subtraction problems at record speeds!

          I began to work through more advanced literature with my older 
students, and they eagerly devoured the works of the great authors and 
poets.  This, of course, led to my staying awake into the the late hours 
of the night reading and rereading books I wanted to cover with them, 
but I didn’t mind.  Bessie Coburn,, my devout worshiper of Shakespeare, 
begged me to let some of the students perform one of the plays.  I let 
them begin work on Julius Caesar, because not only would they learn 
about literature and the theater, but history, as well.  And a 
Shakespeare play would be wildly popular at the end-of-school 
recitation!

          Rob Allen had been writing short stories in his spare time, and he 
showed them to me; I was pleased to be able to say that they were 
actually very good.  I would work with him after school some days, 
teaching him some of the writing techniques I had learned in high 
school.

        Literature was not the only subject at which my older students 
excelled; John Spencer and Lizette Holcombe had heads for mathematics, 
and Smith O’Teale and Wraight Holt showed a natural aptitude for 
science.   And many of the others were not far behind them in these 
subjects.  Sometimes Neil would come and do a chemistry experiment or 
dissect some animal.  The students studied with even more vigor, and 
soon their textbooks and occasional demonstrations were not enough to 
satisfy knowledge-hungry youths.

          But I was beginning to realize that my mathematics and science 
students were getting beyond me; many nights when Neil was at the 
mission, I had him tutor me in those areas.  However, no matter how many 
times he explained Trigonometry and Calculus to me, it made no more 
sense to me than it had in high school.  Neil tried to be patient, but 
sometimes I would be so lost he would pull at the ends of his hair, look 
me straight in the eye, and say, “I’ll come teach the class for you, 
Christy.”  Though I was relieved to have some help, I could not help but 
feel ashamed that I was not able to do my job adequately.  Hopefully 
Cecil Scott would be stronger in those areas than I was!

        Despite the extra work and my struggles,with every day that passed I 
loved my children more and more.  As I looked back on my first day of 
school over a year ago, it was as if they were completely different 
children.  But then again, no, they weren’t all that different.  Maybe I 
just felt that way because of Mountie O’Teale.  Who would have thought 
that that sad, silent little creature would be the vibrant little girl 
who always begged to read aloud?  Mountie was a miracle, plain and 
simple.  All of the children were miracles.  I felt so blessed to have 
each one of them in my life!

        The adult classes were still thriving as well, much to my delight.  Two 
nights a week Miss Alice and I would work with the women, and David and 
Neil with the men. Now, since back in the spring we had showed them 
reasons why a good education was important, they were willing to learn 
in regular school settings. We modified the classes to their level and 
taught in a casual, relaxed way so the people did not feel that we were 
condescending to them.  I was so pleased to see the results an education 
was having on these people: they took more pride in their work and in 
their homes; they were taking better care of their children and 
maintaining more healthy habits; they began to disregard some of their 
long-embraced superstitions; they were even growing more spiritually, 
gaining a deeper understanding of Who the Lord was!  And they were very, 
very proud of their “book larnin’ ”!

        Of course, the mountain people still had a long way to go, but the 
improvements were evident, especially to the mission people.  Miss 
Alice, who had worked so hard for years to help these people, was 
thrilled by the sudden bursts of cooperation, enthusiasm, and unity on 
the part of the people.  David rejoiced in their openness to the Lord, 
while Neil more fully gained their trust and no longer wondered if he 
was doing any good practicing medicine in the Cove.  All of us knew that 
none of this happened except by the Hand of God.  Through Him, all 
things are possible; we saw that in a way more real than we could ever 
have imagined! 


AS THE TIME for the Scotts’ arrival drew closer, I began to worry about 
how the mountain people would respond to a colored couple.  Although 
David had announced in church that a new doctor and teacher would be 
coming to the mission, Miss Alice felt that it would be best not to say 
anything about the Scotts being black.  

        “If we do not act as if Daniel and his wife are different, it may be 
easier for the mountain people to accept them.”

        Everyone seemed to agree with her, but I did not, and I had said so to 
Neil.

        “So what do you suggest we do?” he asked, a hint of superiority in his 
tone.

        “Well, I don’t know exactly,” I began, feeling a little like I had that 
day last summer when Neil had questioned me about my beliefs.  “Maybe we 
could just present it in one of the adult classes.  You know, a 
geography or history lesson would be a perfect way . . .”

        “Everything you say, Christy, doesn’t have to be taught; history 
lectures aren’t always necessary to present something new to the 
people.”

        “But it would be subtle,” I argued.  “We could discuss races and 
nationalities and how God created all men equally; that could all be 
incorporated into a lesson about the Civil War.”

        Neil smiled patronizingly.  “And then you would say, ‘Now don’t you 
wish you could meet a colored person so you could show them that you 
treat all men equally?  As a matter of fact, the mission has just hired 
two colored people, and they will be coming to live here very soon.’ ” 

        The fact that Neil took me so lightly infuriated me.  “I’m serious, 
Neil!  I think it would work!”

        “I know you’re serious, Christy, and I see your reasoning---it’s not 
bad reasoning at all.  But you’re forgetting that these people still 
don’t have a firm concept of equality.  They still have their ‘social 
classes’---Grannies at the top, then Uncle Bogg, all the way down to the 
bottom rung of the ladder with the O’Teales.” 

        I knew he was right, but I did not soften in my manner towards him.  It 
was an issue of pride: my idea had sounded so good in my head, but the 
Doctor had pointed out its weak points, and like a building with a few 
beams missing, it crumbled to dust.  Indignant, I said nothing and 
turned my back to him.

        Neil laid a hand on my shoulder, and his gentle touch melted my 
stubbornness in an instant.  “If if makes you feel any better, lass, 
I’ll admit that I agree with Alice only in theory; I find myself 
doubting whether her idea will really work.  It all depends on the 
people.”

        Actually, it all depended on God, and though Neil and I both knew that, 
our natural inclination was to think about the people, to worry about 
what they would do.  We prayed about it together---for the mountain 
people’s hearts and four our doubts, and that carried us to the day of 
the Scotts’ arrival in Cutter Gap.

        I was still very anxious.


ON THE twenty-first of May, Miss Alice, David, Neil, and I went to El 
Pano to meet the Scotts.

        “We should all go,” David had said.  “We’ll take the wagon.  It’s not a 
good practice to always make new staff members walk from El Pano to the 
Cove.”

        I only rolled my eyes as Neil said, “We all know how remarkable the 
lass is, but Reverend, the story is growing a bit old.” 

        “Yes,” Miss Alice added good-naturedly.  “Even good tales lose 
something after a few times.”

        “A few hundred times, I teased.”

        David laughed and raised his hands in defeat.  “All right, I promise 
never to mention it again!  But I’m not the only one who has told it 
repeatedly!”

        The train pulled into the station shortly after our arrival.  It was 
easy to spot the Scotts even though I had never seen them; they were the 
only colored passengers alighting from the train. Daniel was of average 
height with an athletic build.  He had a mustache and short, curly beard 
and was dressed in a dark blue suit.  Cecile was nearly as tall as 
Daniel and slender, and her skin was a lighter brown than her husband’s.  
She held her head high and looked prim and proper in her long, grey 
overcoat.

        “Daniel Scott!”  Miss Alice cried, gathering up her skirts and running 
to the man, catching him in an embrace.  “You were just a child when 
last I saw thee, and now thou art a man!  It is good to see you again!”
        “You look exactly as I remember you,” Daniel smiled.  He had a nice 
smiled, and his almost-black eyes twinkled.

        “Thy wife,” the Quaker lady continued, turning to Cecile, “is very 
lovely.  Mrs. Scott, I am Alice Henderson.  And might I say that all of 
us are exceedingly joyful to have you two join us in our work!”
        “Yes, we are,” Neil said, extending his hand to Daniel.  “I’m Neil 
MacNeill.  Thanks for taking up my offer, Mr. Scott.”

        “Dan---you can call me Dan,” the black man replied.  “And it’s I who 
should be doin’ the thankin’.  I’m sincerely grateful to you for takin’ 
me on as your assistant; the position is a godsend, Doctor.”

        “You’re the godsend, Dan,” I said.  “Neil needs your help!”

        “You must be Christy Huddleston,” Dan replied.

        “Soon to be Christy MacNeill!”  Neil grinned proudly, putting his arm 
around my waist.

        Dan laughed.  “I understand how you feel, Doctor.  This is my beloved.”
        “Daniel,” Cecile scolded softly, blushing slightly.  Then she said 
shyly, her brown eyes peering at me from under long lashes,  “I’m 
pleased to meet you, Miss Huddleston.”

        Impulsively, I took both of Cecile’s hands.  “You have no idea how 
excited I am that you are here!  I just know we’re going to be great 
friends, Mrs. Scott!”

        “Christy’s always very enthusiastic,” Neil chuckled, noting Cecile’s 
somewhat taken aback expression.  

        I felt stupid and presumptuous for my gesture, but Cecile’s face 
changed. Her eyes glowed merrily, and she laughed---a beautiful, musical 
laugh.  Suddenly all her shyness melted away.  “I think we already are!”

        After all the introductions were made, the men began to load the 
Scotts’ luggage into the wagon, and we set off for the mission.
        “How far is it to Cutter  Gap?”  Cecile asked.

        “About seven miles,” David answered.  “You two have it much easier than 
Christy did her first day . . .”

        Not again!  I thought as David told of my seven-mile walk once again.  
I glanced at Miss Alice, who was riding Goldie, to see her reaction, but 
her face registered nothing---only her eyes laughed.  Neil’s face was 
cupped in his hand as he rode Charlie, and he shook with silent 
laughter.

        “. . . then she had the opportunity of witnessing the good Doctor 
perform a brain operation.”

        “What kind of brain operation was it?” Dan asked Neil, and for the rest 
of the way, the two of them were submersed in medical talk.

        By the time we reached the Cove, I felt like I had known Cecile all my 
life.  We discussed our personal lives, then she wanted to know all 
about the school and the children.  She grew more and more eager as I 
told her story after story.  

        “I can’t wait to begin teaching!” she cried.  

        “Cecile’s also always very enthusiastic,” Dan said to Neil, and both 
men chuckled.

        The sun was beginning to set behind the mountains, and the woods were 
full of bird songs and cricket chirps.

        “It’s so beautiful here,” Cecile sighed, drinking it all in.  “I love 
it already!”

        “Here it is,” David said, slowing the wagon at the mission house.  “The 
Cutter Gap mission.”

        Ida was standing out on the porch as we climbed out of the wagon or 
dismounted horses.  “Welcome,” she said hospitably to Cecile and Dan.  
“I’m Ida Grantland---David’s sister.  Why don’t you all come in?  
Supper’s on the table.”

        “That’s something you never want to miss around here,” David said, 
laying a hand on Dan’s shoulder.  “My sister is the best cook in the 
country.”

        “He’s not exaggerating,” Neil added, heading for the house.  He winked 
at me, “Of course, I now another girl who’s quite good in the kitchen.”

        Eight people gathered around the dinner table that night; eight people 
were one as we clasped hands and bowed our heads to give thanks to the 
Lord.  Our fellowship was so wonderful that when everyone had gone to 
their respective rooms or cabins (or bunkhouses, in David’s case), I was 
surprised surprised at how quickly the time had flown:  the clock was 
striking twelve!

**********************************************************************
Chapter:  Nineteen
Summary:  Dan and Cecile get accustomed to Cutter Gap.

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


"The Joy of the Children", Chapter Nineteen:

DAN AND CECILE took a few days to settle into their new home at the 
mission house, but they soon wanted to meet some of the mountain people.  
So, Miss Alice and I agreed to take them around the Cove.  

        First we went to Bird’s Eye and Opal’s, and though they were not rude 
to the couple, they weren’t exactly warm in their reception, either.  

The same scene played out at Bob Allen’s and Jeb Spencer’s; the mountain 
families were obviously suspicious and uncertain of how to react to the 
colored people.  Dan and Cecile acted as if it did not bother them, but 
I could see that they were discouraged.

        “Why do we not go to see Miss Hattie?” Miss Alice suggested.  “I had 
forgotten about her until just now, but she always likes to meet new 
people.”

        Miss Alice was explaining to the Scotts that Hattie was Neil’s aunt and 
that she was the nicest person in Cutter Gap, and I realized why she had 
suggested we go there:  Aunt Hattie was blind, and her treatment of the 
newcomers would not be influenced by the color of their skin.

        It turned out to be a wonderful idea, taking Dan and Cecile to meet  
Hattie.  She was so warm and friendly and wanted to know all about them.

        “I’m tickled pink ye came by t’day,” she said.  “Ever since Neil told 
me you was comin’ t’ help him, I’ve been right anxious fer you t’ come.  
The doctorin’s too much work fer one man.  And I’m glad yer wife is 
a-goin’ t’ be teachin’.  I know th’ young’uns’ll like ye as much as 
they’ve taken a shine t’ Christy.” 

        We ended up staying at  Hattie’s for lunch and late into the afternoon, 
and all of us enjoyed ourselves immensely, especially Dan, who was 
instantly friends with the elderly lady.  When we at last had to leave, 
Hattie accompanied us outside and called out to Dan and Cecile, “I’ll be 
seein’ you at meetin’ on Sunday, but yer welcome t’ come back any time.  
I always look forward t’ visitors!”

        “What a sweet lady,” Dan said as we headed back to the mission.  “That 
was quite a cheerin’ visit, especially after our un-cheery visits this 
mornin’.”
        “Of course, Miss Hattie doesn’t know that we’re black,” Cecile 
countered darkly.  “I wonder if she’d still invite us back if she knew.”


ON SUNDAY, Dan strode confidently into the church house, a timid Cecile 
hanging onto his arm.  The few people who had already arrived fell 
silent and stared unabashedly at the couple.  As Cecile sat down next to 
me, I saw unmistakable fear and pain in her brown eyes as she watched 
the scene playing out across the aisle.

        Her husband extended his hand to Ault Allen, who was seated in the 
second row.

        “Hello, sir,” he said, smiling.  “I’m Daniel Scott.”

        Ault’s face registered cold indifference as he chewed his tobacco, but 
Dan’s smile only faltered for a minute, and he added, “I’m going to be 
working with Dr. MacNeill.”

        There was still no response from Ault, and Dan began to look 
uncomfortable.  “Is---is anyone sittin’ here by you?”

        “Nope,” came Ault’s terse reply as he stood up.  “And there ain’t no 
one sittin’ here, neither.”  He spit a stream of tobacco juice on the 
toe of Dan’s boot, then took his sons and moved to the back of the 
church.

        Dan was just sitting down and I was about to apologize to both him and 
Cecile, when Neil approached and said to the young man, “I saw what just 
happened.  Don’t take it personally, Dan; like I told you, it takes a 
while for the mountain people to get used to anything that’s unfamiliar 
to them.”

        “I’m not not worried about that,” Dan said resolutely.  “I know, 
without a doubt, that this is where the Lord wants Cecile and me; He’ll 
take care of people’s attitudes, and even if they don’t change, He’ll 
take care of us.”

        I was amazed at the firm faith Dan Scott had.  How could he react so to 
such scorn?

        “Daniel’s right,” Cecile said softly.  “I don’t need to be so afraid 
right now; we’re in God’s hands.”

        I felt a soft tap on my shoulder and turned to see Hattie.  “Christy,” 
she asked softly.  “Do I hear Miss Cecile next t’ you?”

        “Yes, it’s me,” Cecile said to her.  “Good morning, Miss Hattie.”

        Hattie smiled and made her way past me to sit next to Cecile.  “I’m 
real glad you and Daniel made it here t’day.  I hope you don’t object t’ 
me sittin’ by you.”

        “Not at all.”  Then Cecile added, under her breath, “If you don’t 
object to sitting by me.”

        Just then, I became aware of a commotion in the back of the church and 
noticed that around us people were getting up from their  seats. 
 
        “Why are you all leaving?” David shouted as he was coming in.

        “We won’t abide no colored folks in our church,” Uncle Bogg said.
“Don’t like them dark people.”

        Before David could reply, Ault Allen spoke up.  “I say we make them 
leave; this here’s our church, an’ no dark skinned outlander’s a-goin’ 
t’ make me leave hit.”  

        He came to the row where Cecile, Miss Hattie, and I sat.  “Miz Hattie,” 
Ault said scornfully.  “Bet ye didn’t know ye was a-sittin’ by no 
colored woman, did ye?  Teacher didn’t tell ye that there was a 
black-skinned witch at church t’day did ye?”  Tobacco juice spewed from 
his yellow teeth as he spat the words.  

        A low murmur circulated among the crowd at the back of the church, and 
I glanced across the aisle at Neil; he looked furious, and I could see 
him debating within himself about what to do.

        “Blind wimmin like ye can’t be trustin’ no outlander schoolteachers,” 
Ault continued.  “I reckon Miz Christy’s a-trying t’ bring some kind o’ 
evil on this Cove by bringin’ in these black devils.  Them outlanders, 
they’re all a-tryin t’ run us out’n here.  Wall, hit ain’t a-goin’ t’ 
work, teacher.”  I grimy finger pointed at me and Ault shouted, “We’ll 
a-run ye an’ these other folks clear out o’---”

        Ault’s sentence was cut short as Neil leaped from his seat and threw a 
punch at the man.  The force of the hit sent Ault reeling over a bench, 
and he landed at the foot of the pulpit.  Raging, Neil hit him again and 
grabbed Ault by the collar of his shirt and shouted, waving his fist in 
his face, “If you ever say anything of the sort to my Aunt or to Christy 
or about the Scotts,  I swear I’ll---”

        “Doctor!”  Miss Alice’s authoritative voice silenced the din.  “That 
will be quite enough.”

        “I---I’m sorry, Ault,” Neil stammered, obviously quite embarrassed.  “I 
let my temper get the better of me.”

        “Thee did,” said Miss Alice, approaching the two men.  “Stand up, Ault, 
and wipe the blood from thy nose.  It looks as though Neil has given you 
quite a black eye, as well.”  She handed Ault a handkerchief and 
continued to reprimand him.  “Not that thee did not deserve it. I 
believe that several apologies are in order.”

        “Will you let me speak first,” Hattie asked boldly, standing.  “This is 
th’ Lord’s house, an’ in His house, we listen t’ His words.  Ault Allen, 
Bogg McHone, you was sayin’ that Daniel and Cecile is dark folks.  Wall, 
I never saw a dark person in my life, an’ neither have you.  But I 
talked t’ them, an’ you didn’t do that, either.  I didn’t see their 
skin, and I don’t care what color it is.  They’re real good folks, and 
they’re a-goin t’ be a big help t’ Neil and Christy and all of us here.  
Th’ Lord has told them to come here t’ do His work, and do you know what 
He says about that in His Word?”                Hattie’s blue eyes, though they were 
sightless to earthly things, revealed the deep pleading of her soul.  “ 
‘Look not on his countenance, or on the height of his stature; because I 
have refused him:  for the Lord seeth not as man seeth; for man looketh 
on the outward appearance, but the Lord looketh on the heart.’ ”

        David had made his way to the front of the church, and he took Hattie’s 
hand as she sat down.  “I think that Miss Hattie has spoken the truth.  
Think about the words the Lord has spoken through her.”  He looked at 
the faces of the people still gathered in the back.  “Let us pray.”

        After a brief prayer, David dismissed the congregation.  The people 
silently filed out of the church, Ault, with a vile expression on his 
face.  

        “I am so sorry, Cecile,” I said.  “Ault is always---” I stopped, for 
Bird’s Eye and Opal, Bob and Mary Allen, and Jeb (with all their 
children) were slowly coming to us.

        “Miss Hattie always says th’ right thing t’ set a body straight,” 
Bird’s Eye said.  “I knew I shoulda been more neighbor-like when ye came 
visitin’ th’ other day, but I warn’t thinkin’ right.”  He offered his 
hand to Dan.  “So howdy, friend.  Glad t’ know ye.”

        “We’d be right happy if ye could step over t’ th’ cabin fer dinner,” 
Opal added.  “An’ you kin come, too, Hattie. Bob an’ Mary an’ Jeb’ll all 
be thar, an’ we’ll have a real good time.”

        Miss Alice, David, Neil, and I slipped out of the church while the 
families  were talking.  

        “Well,” said Miss Alice, “though we got off to a rather rocky start, it 
looks as if the Lord will prevail, as He always does.”

        “I just wish I had not lost my temper with Ault,” Neil replied 
remorsefully.  “Of course, it’s not the first time I’ve given him a 
black eye or a bloody nose.”

        I wrinkled my nose, and he added, “Ault and I had a fight at least once 
a week when we were boys.  Naturally, I always won.”

        “Well, you are not boys any longer, Neil,” Miss Alice scolded mildly.  
“You really ought to go see him.”

        “I know,” Neil said.  “But I have a feeling Ault won’t be quick to 
forgive.”  Then, turning to me shame-faced, he asked, “Are you mad at 
me, Miz Christy?”

        “Well,” I replied in a teacherly tone, “If you make fighting a habit, 
Neil, I might have a few words for you, but since you were defending me, 
I can’t be angry.  Besides, I think Ault deserves what he gets.”

        “I agree!” David said with a boyish laugh.  “Ault’s had that coming for 
a long time.”

        We all looked to Miss Alice for her reaction to our vengeful attitudes.  
Her mouth was turned in a wry grin and she said, “I was rather pleased 
to see what a fine blue-black color his eye was.”  She laughed.  “Every 
time he blinks, his eye will throb, and maybe Ault will remember not to 
cause uproars in church.  Well done, Neil!”  Then she added, seemingly 
shocked by her statement.  “May the Lord forgive my hypocritical words.  
I am a Quaker, and I do not condone violence. As Miss Huddleston says, 
don’t make it a habit, Neil.”

Chapter:  Twenty
Summary:  A bit about Dan and Cecile; Ruby Mae's little bundle of joy


"The Joy of the Children", Chapter Twenty

DAN AND CECILE were truly a blessing to the mission.  Their talents and 
gifts suited them exactly for the work in Cutter Gap, much to the 
delight of Miss Alice and the rest of the mission staff. In only a few 
weeks they were well established in the Cove and earning the people’s 
love and respect; only Ault and a few other families remained prejudiced 
against them, and they stopped attending church and refused to send 
their children to school.  

        Though he had not had as much formal medical education and training 
as Neil, Dan was a natural doctor.  The many hours he had spent pouring 
over old medical and science textbooks and studying herbs and plants 
were evident.   He knew logically and instinctively what to do in 
different situations, and things of which he was unsure he learned 
quickly.  Neil said that he had never seen a man with such inherent 
ability.  Dan’s mind was vigorous and alert; his hands steady and 
gentle; his manner kind and confident.  And he was the ideal pupil: 
eager to learn and willing to accept instruction.    

        For several several weeks Dan accompanied Neil on all his calls so that 
he could get to know the people and learn first hand about the medical 
status of the Cove.  The mountain people, thanks to God and Miss 
Hattie’s words that Sunday and Bird’s Eye Taylor’s example, took an 
instant liking to the friendly colored man.  He didn’t try to pry into 
their affairs or change them; he just came to help them get back on 
their feet and to cheer.  Apparently he was very good at cheering, 
always joking or telling a tall tale---exactly like the mountain people! 

        As Granny Barclay commented, “I don’t normally pay much mind t’ them 
outlanders who go t’ them fancy larnin’ schools, but Doc’s a mountain 
man hisself, and that Mr. Dan knowed all my secrets ’bout them plants 
and herbs.  Reckon if’n he found ’em out, he’s got somethin’ worth 
payin’ heed to.”

        “Doc brought that Scott feller out by my place,” Uncle Bogg had said, 
“Shorely tells a heap o’ tales---better’n the tall cornstalk one.  Law, 
if’n a man kin make me believe sech a pack o’ lies as he telled th’ 
other day, I’ll let him give me a swig o’ toddick any day!”

        Though he had become good friends with Jeb, Bob Allen, and Bird’s Eye, 
the aspiring physician was closest to Neil.  Their relationship was not 
simply that of teacher and student or of fellow doctors; it was a true 
comradeship. The two of them got along wonderfully; their personalities 
were not so different that they clashed, nor were they too much alike.  
Both men were pensive, avid thinkers, but Dan was the quieter of the 
two; he was, for the most part, acquiescent, while Neil was forever 
governed by his stubbornness; they were both patient and dedicated to 
their work, confident and driven.  However, neither of them took life 
too seriously, and I think that many a medical lesson turned into a 
fishing excursion!

        Cecile was as wonderful and as gifted as her husband.  The school 
children seemed a bit wary of the new teacher at first, but when they 
discovered that she was proficient in the areas of mathematics and 
science and as excited to teach them as I was, they quickly warmed to 
her.  And she was a storyteller, too, like Dan, no doubt part of her 
African heritage.  What child could resist a good story?

          She was able to help the older students in ways I had never been able 
to, and she contributed new ideas and methods for more effectively and 
efficiently teaching our nearly seventy students.  I primarily taught 
the younger children, but I still taught literature and English to the 
advanced pupils.  Cecile took over David’s Bible class, along with Latin 
and math and science.  The students made even more progress than ever! 

        Of course, Cecile was not just a blessing because of the help she was 
in the Cove any more than Dan was.  It was so good to have a woman near 
my age so close by, and we were the best of friends already.   With her 
I could forget everything and just talk, one woman to another.  We 
shared our inward struggles and private thoughts---everything.  Neither 
of us wore that affected mask of propriety that had so often shrouded my 
friendships back in Asheville; Cecile and I acted just as we were.   
Sometimes we were really quite childish, traipsing about the woods and 
meadows, picking wildflowers and wading in the cool mountain streams.  
Our outings brought back memories of Fairlight, but gone was the bitter 
pain that had previously filled my memories of my friend.  I wanted to 
share the “wonderment” of Cutter Gap with Cecile just as Fairlight had 
showed me.  Each moment we spent together was fun and fulfilling, and I 
knew I would treasure these days forever.  

        The Scotts were a godsend to the boarders as well.  Both Dan and Cecile 
loved children, and they nurtured the five boys and girls as well as any 
parent.  They played with the children, read and sang to them, taught 
them, not only in words, but by their actions, too, to love the Lord 
completely.  I watched Mountie O’Teale blossom and bloom like a spring 
flower under the care of all of us at the mission; the other boarders 
also grew and looked more like happy, lively children than ever.  I 
rested easily knowing that when I no longer lived at the mission house, 
the children would continue to receive all the love and care they 
needed.  How the Lord provides!

DURING SCHOOL one day, I saw Neil come thundering into the mission yard 
on Charlie.  I stopped teaching and ran out to meet him.  

        “Neil, what is it?” I asked in alarm.

        “Mary Allen just told me that it’s Ruby Mae’s time.”

        “She’s having her baby?”

        “Aye,” he nodded.  “Will you come, Christy?  She’ll want you with her.”

        “Of course,” I replied.  “Let me run in and tell Cecile to cover for 
me.”

        When I came back outside, Neil pulled me up behind him and spurred his 
horse onward. 

        “What about Miss Alice?” I asked.

        “She’s already there,” Neil replied.  Then, “I don’t suppose you’ve 
ever seen a birth before?”    
  
        “No,” I answered.  “In Asheville the stork brings the baby, or the 
doctor brings him in his bag.”

        Neil laughed.  “You can look in my bag, but you won’t find any baby; 
no, lass, today you see the real thing!”                “As if I don’t know!”  I 
cried.  “Really, Neil, I’ve been living here for a year and a half now; 
do you really think I’m as foolish as that?”

        “Not at all,” he replied sweetly.  “But still a bit untouched by the 
world.” After a brief pause, the Doctor added, “Actually, Granny Barclay 
is the midwife of the Cove, and it was she who delivered most of your 
school children, not I.  Though lately her health hasn’t been very 
good.”
        “What’s wrong with her?”

        “Age,” Neil answered.  “All the grannies are beginning to slow down.  
It’s quite sad, for they’ve always been here, and now they’re dying.  
Like Aunt Polly Teague last year---the people still haven’t gotten over 
losing her.”

        Upon reaching the Beck cabin, we were met with an ear-piercing scream.  
Will was out on the porch, and he raced over to Neil and me as we hopped 
off of Charlie.

        “Doc, ye got t’ git in thar quick!  Ruby Mae’s sufferin’ somethin’ 
fearsome!”

        A stab of fear went through me.  What if something were to happen to 
Ruby Mae?  No, I would not think of it.  Neil would not let anything 
happen to her.  

        Miss Alice was at the fireplace, boiling some water when we went in the 
cabin.  

        “How is she, Alice?” Neil asked.  “We heard her scream from outside.  
Is she having trouble with the delivery?”

        “There is nothing wrong with Ruby Mae Beck---or her child---as far as I 
can tell.  She is just a scared little girl.”  Miss Alice looked at me 
and said, “I am glad to see thou art here.  Maybe you can calm her.”

        We all went into the adjoining room where Ruby Mae lay on the bed, 
tossing and turning.  Her face lit up when she saw me, and she sat up.  
“Oh, Miz Christy, aim I glad t’ see ye!  Aim I dyin’?  I shorely feel 
like I be dyin’.”

        I knelt down beside her and wiped her sweaty forehead with a cool rag.  
“No, Ruby Mae, you’re not dying.  Everything’s going to be just fine.  
Dr. MacNeill and Miss Alice are here, and they know all about delivering 
babies.”

        “That’s right, girl,” Neil assured her.  “Don’t be afraid; just do as 
we tell you what to do.”

        Ruby Mae nodded, then was doubled over in a contraction, tears 
streaming down her face.  

        “Hush,” I whispered, wiping her brow again.  “It’s all right.”  I tried 
to be comforting, but my thoughts were different.  Miss Alice was right; 
Ruby Mae’s still a little girl.  Much too young to be having a baby.

        Neil was asking Miss Alice how far apart the contractions were, when 
Ruby Mae cried out again.  “Oh, hit hurts bad, Miz Christy!”

        “I know, sweetheart,” I told her.  “But don’t think about the pain; 
only think of Will and how very soon you will be a mother.  Think of 
your precious baby, Ruby Mae.”

        “Will,” she murmured, a faint smile crossing her face.  “I bet he’s 
right shook up now with worryin’!  He was tickled pink when I telled him 
I was expectin’, but he can’t stand t’ see me hurtin’, like when I took 
sick in th’ winter.”

        Another contraction.  

        “All right,” Neil said after a further examination.  “It won’t be long 
now.  With the next contraction, Ruby Mae, you must push as hard as you 
can.”
        I felt so helpless as I clutched Ruby Mae’s hand and listened to Neil’s 
and Miss Alice’s instructions and encouragements, but after what seemed 
like long, agonizing hours, the delivery was over, and the sound of a 
shrill wail filled the room.  I heaved a sigh of relief.  

        “You did it Ruby Mae!  You’ve just given birth to---”

        “To a beautiful baby boy!” Miss Alice cut in.  “Miss Huddleston, will 
you clean him off while I tell Will the good news?”

        She handed me the baby, and as I washed his abundant, wild black hair 
and wrinkly body, I was in raptures over him.   This tiny newborn I held 
was so perfect---his tiny nose, wisps of eyebrows, perfectly formed 
fingers and toes . . . What a joy it would be to be a mother!  

        “Let’s go meet your mama, little one,” I cooed to him, kissing his soft 
cheek.  “You’re a sweetheart, yes you are!   Here is your son, Ruby 
Mae!”

        Will came in then, and he was instantly at his wife’s side, gazing in 
wonder at the tiny bundle she held. 

        “Lookit him, Will, ain’t he fine?” Ruby Mae asked proudly, her eyes 
swimming with tears of joy.  

        I observed that in that instant of holding her child, her face had 
taken on a womanly look---the wonderful, loving expression only a mother 
can have.  She held in her arms the most precious gift a woman 
receives---her own child.  At that moment, I found myself envying Ruby 
Mae!

        “Let’s leave them,” Neil whispered  to me, directing me to the door.  
“That was a beautiful sight,” he said once we were out of the bedroom.

        “The baby is adorable,” I replied, “and Will and Ruby Mae seem very 
happy.”

        Neil looked at me almost bashfully.  “Yes, but I meant you were 
beautiful to behold while you were taking care of the baby.  I couldn’t 
help but think how someday I’ll look on you taking care of our babies; 
it’s a sweet thought.”

        I blushed and placed a quick kiss on his cheek.  “Miss Alice must be 
outside,” I said.

        We went out on the porch and found her. 
 
        “I’m glad that’s over,” she smiled.  “You handled it well, Christy.”

        “For a while I didn’t think I was going to,” I laughed.  “I was 
constantly thinking, ‘She’s too young.’ ”

        “I was only sixteen,” Miss Alice replied, her expression distant for a 
moment, remembering.  I thought she might cry, but she quickly smiled 
and said, “You two go on; I’ll stay for a bit and see to it that Ruby 
Mae has everything she needs.  Tell Ida I’ll be back for supper.”  

        Before either of us could say anything, Miss Alice had gone inside the 
cabin and shut the door.

        I was worried about Miss Alice.  After she came back from the Becks’, 
she moved very slowly; at dinner she didn’t say a word; afterwards she 
slipped away with only a quiet “good night”.  

        I had to follow her; I could not bear to see my mentor, my friend, so 
upset.  Before I turned the doorknob, I remembered the crystal cross 
that still lay in the trunk in my room.  I had forgotten all about it 
until now, and I ran upstairs to get it, then out to Miss Alice’s cabin.

        Without bothering to knock, I went in and found her kneeling on the 
floor, looking through a trunk.  When she gazed up at me, I noticed her 
eyes were red-rimmed from crying; I had never seen Miss Alice cry.  

        “These were Margaret’s things,” she said quietly.  “Neil brought them 
to me---” her voice faltered.  “He brought them to me shortly before he 
asked thee to marry hi.m.  I do not resent your love for one another, 
Christy.  It’s just that I knew then Neil’s time for grieving was over; 
he had forgiven, and perhaps forgotten---” A flood of tears came then, 
and I knelt beside my friend and held her.

        “I can’t forget Christy,” she sobbed.  “And I can’t forgive---not 
myself.  I was not the mother to Margaret I should have been.  So many 
nights I have lain awake, thinking what I could have done differently 
that might have prevented her from choosing her path to destruction . . 
.”

        “Miss Alice,” I said, almost sternly.  “You loved your daughter.  You 
loved her more than anyone on this earth, and I think Margaret knew 
that.  But  her choices were her own.  There was nothing you could have 
done to change her; only God changes people.”  Then I added, “If it’s 
any comfort, you have been like a mother to me.”

        “Oh, Christy,” she said, wiping away her tears.  “And I have thought of 
thee as my daughter.  I am better now.  Something came over me today 
when I saw how afraid and naive Ruby Mae was; I saw myself, and for a 
while I was reliving it all.”  She smiled.  “You look as if you have a 
wise word on the tip of thy tongue.”

        “It’s not mine,” I replied.  “I’m afraid I’ll never have a wise word of 
my own.  But Fairlight always said ‘it’s today I must be living’.  I’ve 
found it encouraging in many a sad time.”

        Miss Alice was thoughtful for a minute, then she closed the trunk and 
locked it.  “Margaret is gone,” she said simply and put the trunk away 
in a closet in the corner of the room.  “My work and my life are now.”  
The lady kissed my  forehead.  “I love thee, my daughter.”

        I remembered the gift again, and reached into my jacket pocket.  “I saw 
this in a shop window in Asheville; I knew it was for you.”

        With trembling hands, she took the cross from me and held it up to the 
light.  “Christy it is beautiful!  I know just where it shall hang; 
right in the front window where it will catch the sunlight every 
morning.”

        She hung it at that moment, then stood back and said, “A verse comes to 
mind as I behold thy gift and imagine the morning light shining through 
it:  Lamentations 3:22-23, “It is of the Lord’s mercies that we are not 
consumed, because His compassions fail not.  They are new ever morning: 
great is Thy faithfulness!”
**********************************************************************

        I smiled. “Now that is a promise to claim!”

Chapter:  Twenty-one
Summary:  Recitation Day
**********************************************************************

"The Joy of the Children", Chapter Twenty-one:

AS JULY flew by, I felt as if there was not a minute that went by in 
which I was not occupied in some way.  When I was not working on lesson 
plans or grading papers or reading through a book we were studying in 
school, I was teaching the adult classes or taking care of the boarders 
or visiting someone.  I stayed up late at night and rose early each 
morning.  I could not even imagine trying to keep up with everything 
without Cecile!  

        In addition all the regular work, it was time to start preparing for 
the end-of-school recitation.  Something in me felt as if I needed to 
improve upon last year’s recitation, so I plunged into the task of 
teaching the children songs and poems, organizing a spelling match and 
arithmetic competition.  I also intended for the students to perform 
Julius Caesar, on which they had been working for some time, but they 
protested.  

        “Why don’t you want to do it?”  I asked Lizette and Bessie.  “You all 
are doing it just fine.”

        “Wall, Teacher,” Lizette began, “We jest think everyone’ud like seein’ 
somethin’ different better.”
        Bessie’s eyes lit up.  “Yes’m.  Somethin’ with romancin’!”
        I tried to stifle a grin.  “And just what do you have in mind?”
        “ ‘Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou, Romeo?’ ” the girl quoted 
dramatically.  “Romeo and Juliet’s the plumb romancinest thing I ever 
read!”

        “Oh, please, Miz Christy,” Lizette begged.  “The boys wouldn’t object; 
we read it to ’em yesterday at recess.  They liked the sword fightin’.”
        “Well . . .”

        “Please?”  Bessie pleaded.  “It would teach all about lit’rature and 
true love and feudin’.”

        I didn’t know about “true love”, but Romeo and Juliet was a classic, 
and it would make a statement against feuding.  “All right,” I laughed.  
“But you all will have to work extra hard, and I’ll have to assign parts 
today.”

         After a few days, I was pleased to find that the play was going quite 
well.

        Needless to say, the week of the recitation, I was at my wits’ end, 
more nervous than I had ever been in my life.  Some of the children were 
having trouble memorizing the poems they had chosen to recite, and I was 
beginning to wonder if I had placed too much responsibility on them; 
most of the students were participating in the play, the spelling bee, 
and the math competition, as well as reciting a verse.  And David wanted 
us to have the Scripture memory contest again this year (excluding 
genealogies).

        Fortunately, Cecile exuded confidence and helped me oversee the whole 
project.  She did the job far more effectively than me, though. I was so 
worried and edgy, as well.  The night before the recitation, I was a 
nervous wreck, and it didn’t help matters any that I had been getting 
only about five hours of sleep each night.                              Everything was ready, 
but I stayed after school, scrubbing and scouring and checking over 
everything a thousand times.  I didn’t even realize it was time for 
supper until Miss Alice came to the schoolhouse.

        “Christy, thou art carrying this entirely too far,” she said gently.  
“Everything will be fine.  Now, come back to the house and have some 
dinner and relax.”

        “Oh, Miss Alice, I just can’t.  I’m so worried about tomorrow.  I know 
I planned too much.  What if something goes wrong?  What if the children 
forget what they’re supposed to do and the play is a disaster?”

        Miss Alice scrutinized me under her level gaze. “Don’t you have faith 
in the children, Christy?” 
 
        “Yes, I do,” I replied.  “That is why I am worried.  They can do 
it---and wonderfully at that.  But they are doing so much.  They would 
feel horribly if something were to happen.”

        “They might,” Miss Alice agreed.  “But the mountain people are good at 
improvising.  I think your real problem, Christy, is that you are afraid 
that you would feel horribly if something were to go wrong.”
        “Of course I would,” I answered, a bit taken aback.  “I’ve worked so 
hard getting this ready.”

        “You see, Christy?  You admit that it is because you have worked so 
hard.  You don’t want your pride to be wounded.”

        “This is not about my pride!”  I snapped.

        “I am not angry with thee, Christy; I was not judging  you.  But yes, 
it is a matter of your pride. Not that pride is always wrong; you take 
pride in your work and you do a wonderful job at whatever you undertake.  
However, I think you might have your hopes set too fixedly on exactly 
how things should go tomorrow.  Remember, in Cutter Gap, the only thing 
you should expect is the unexpected.”

        I thought about this for a moment, and my anger subsided.  Miss Alice 
was right.

        “Now,” she said with a smile, kissing me on the forehead.  “Do not 
worry about the recitation any more.  Last year Creed Allen’s raccoon 
had a bout with Jeb Spencer’s hounds.”  The grey eyes twinkled.  “And 
everybody loved it.”

        I had to laugh, and I ran my hand through my disheveled hair.  “Thank 
you, Miss Alice.  I have been rather uptight about all of this.  Thanks 
for really preparing me for the recitation.”  I sighed and looked around 
the school room one last time.  “I’ll just have to accept whatever comes 
my way.  At least Cecile’s here now; I could always blame it on her if 
anything goes wrong.”

        “I’m sure she would appreciate that,” Miss Alice joined my sarcasm.  
“Now, Miss Huddleston, let’s go have some of that fried chicken Ida’s 
prepared.”


RECITATION DAY dawned bright and sunny, and I awoke to a bird chirping 
outside my window.  I rose and dressed in a lavender summer dress, 
pinned up my hair, and after a rushed breakfast, Cecile and I went to 
the school to make certain everything was in order.  Before I knew it, 
the school was packed with the students and their parents; it was much 
more crowded than last year.
  
        Miss Alice made the introduction, then sat next to me on the front row 
as the children stood before the blackboard.  In robust, lusty voices,  
they began to sing an African spiritual that Cecile had taught them.  
Toes were set to tapping instantly, and the mountain people loved the 
rollicking melody.  When the song was over, the room was filled with 
whistling and wild applause.  Basking in the praise, the children sang 
the next songs with even more vigor.  

        Next came the spelling bee.  Seventeen students participated, and it 
took four complete rounds before any of them were eliminated.  I was 
afraid this might go on forever, but as the words grew more difficult, 
more students misspelled them.  At last there were two contestants left:  
Lizette Holcombe and Rob Allen.  

        “Rob, your word is precipitate.”

        Rob took a deep breath.  “P-R-E-C-I-P-I-T-A-T-E.”

        “That is correct,” I said amid the applause which broke out after every 
correctly spelled word.

        Lizette’s word was condescend, and she rattled it out with no 
difficulty.

        Round after round, word after word, and still neither Rob nor Lizette 
missed a letter.  This was a good match!  The audience waited 
breathlessly for me to call the next word.  But I could not; I had used 
the entire list!  

        “I think we have a bit of a problem,” I laughed.  “We’re out of words.”

        No one seemed to think this was funny.  Someone had to win the spelling 
bee!  What was I going to do?

        I looked to Miss Alice, when I saw Neil stand up in the back of the 
room.  “I have a word.  Rob, spell diphtheria.”

        “D-I-P-H-T-H-E-R-I-A.”

        “Correct,” Neil answered.  “Lizette, tonsillitis.”

        Very slowly, Lizette spelled, “T-O-N-S-I-L-L-I-T-I-S.”

        Neil grinned.  “Rob, your word us conjunctivitis.”

        The boy closed his eyes, picturing the word.  “C,” he said slowly, 
drawing in his breath.  “O-N-J-U-N-C-T-I-V-I-T-I-S.”

        “Never heared sech words, Miz Christy,” Bob Allen cried out, nervously 
wiping sweat from his brow.  “Ye sure Doc ain’t makin’ them up out’n his 
head?”

        “I promise you, Bob, they’re in my medical books!” Neil laughed, then 
turned to Lizette.  “Spell laryngitic.”

        The room was silent, and Lizette’s hands shook.  Her voice was small as 
she said, “L-A-R-E-N-G-I-T-I-C.”

        “I’m sorry, Lizette,” Neil said softly.  “Rob, I’ll repeat the word:  
laryngitic.”

        It seemed like hours before Rob began spelling the word, and when he 
did begin, he spelled slowly and deliberately.  “L-A-R-Y-N-G-I-T-I-C.”
        Everyone sat on the edge of his seat, breathlessly awaiting the 
Doctor’s answer.  

        “That is correct!” he declared.

        Rob glowed from head to toe.  

        “Rob Allen is our winner!” I announced.  “But let’s give both of them a 
hand!”

        “Congratulations, Rob,” Lizette said sweetly, as everyone stood and 
cheered.  “Ye deserved t’ win.”

        When the people had settled down, we had another song and a few 
recitations, then came the mathematics competition.  This contest was a 
little more lively than the spelling bee, because the students did speed 
drills on the blackboard.  We had six different categories, with a 
winner from each one: Mountie O’Teale won in addition; Little Burl in 
subtraction; Zady Spencer in multiplication; Sam Houston Holcombe in 
division; Lizette in Algebra; and John Spencer won the Geometry, 
Trigonometry, and Calculus titles.

        David came forward next.  “Last year our school had a scripture memory 
contest.  All the students who participated worked very hard, and though 
not all of them won, each of them did more than win: they hid God’s word 
in their hearts, as Psalm One Hundred Nineteen, Verse Eleven says.  
However,” he said, smiling, “it’s still fun to make a contest and have a 
winner.  So, which of you will follow in the footsteps of Festus Allen?  
Who will be this year’s winner?”

        Mountie O’Teale---I could not believe that Mountie was speaking in 
front of the whole school and the parents, too---recited the Lord’s 
Prayer.  We heard the Beatitudes, the Twenty-third Psalm, and Festus 
Allen, hoping either to defend his title or just to make a sensation, 
recited a portion of Judges Three---the story of Ehud and King Eglon.  
The people loved it, and I tried not to laugh, I glanced over at David, 
who was doubled over, and I could not contain myself.    There were two 
very impressive ones: Zady Spencer recited all forty verses of Hebrews 
Eleven, and Isaak McHone, who won, memorized the entire book of 
Philippians.  

        Miss Alice came to present the awards.  “We are very delighted with our 
children.  They have worked so hard this year, and all of you parents 
must be very proud.”

        There was applause, and she proceeded to present each of the day’s 
winners with their prizes.  She then announced that this year’s 
achievement award went to Rob Allen, whose grade average was 98.5%.
        “That’s my boy!” his father shouted, his applause resounding above 
everyone else’s.  “That’s my boy!”

        We broke at noon for lunch.  Each family had brought a dish, and it was 
a great time of fellowship.  

        “You look as if you could use something to drink,” Neil said, bringing 
me a glass of juice.  

        I took it from him gratefully.  “Thanks.  Oh, and you saved the 
spelling bee, you know.”

        “I know,” he grinned.   “And next we have a little Shakespeare?”
        “Yes,” I answered.  “In fact, I need to get the children together for 
that now.”

        I scurried off to round up the performers, and soon the parents were 
seated in chairs outside.  (There was not enough room in the schoolhouse 
for a play.)

        Romeo and Juliet began and went relatively smoothly---until the final 
act.  Just as Juliet (played by Bessie Coburn) was about to wake from 
the poison, there was a horrible squeal, and suddenly the hogs ran out 
from under the school house.  Bessie jumped to her feet, but  a huge hog 
barreled into her, knocking her to the ground.  The scene was chaotic, 
Romeo and Juliet forgotten by all. Everywhere people were running and 
pigs were running . . . Somehow, though I don’t know how---I saw it all 
in a blur---some of the men rounded up the pigs and shooed them away.  
        “Spooked,” Jeb Spencer was saying.

        “What do you think got them so worked up?” David asked him.

        “Can’t rightly say.”

        “I may have an idea,” Neil said, glancing toward the schoolhouse.  
Creed Allen and Zacharias Holt were peeking sheepishly around the corner 
of the building.

        “Boys,” I called.  “Come here please.”

        They came to me slowly, heads hanging in shame. 
 
        “Do you two know what caused the hogs to run out from under the school 
and disrupt the play?”

        Creed and Zacharias looked sidelong at one another.  

        “Answer Miss Christy,” David said sternly.

        “It were a acci-dent,” Creed explained.  “Hit’s so hot out’n here, 
Teacher, and figgered we’d be smart like th’ hawgs’n shimmy under th’ 
school whar it’s nice’n cool.  Didn’t mean no harm, but then Scalawag 
jumped out o’ my arms’n skeared them stupid hawgs.”

        “We’re rightly sorry, Miz Christy,” said Zach.  “D’ye reckon ye kin 
forgive us fer messin’ up yer play?”

        “Yes, boys, I can forgive you,” I answered.  “But you really need to 
apologize to the other boys and girls and to the parents.”

        “Yes’m,” Creed said penitently.  “But I tell ye, all that romancin’ in 
th’ play was enough t’ make me sick.  I think the pigs was right smart 
t’ run through thar!  If pigs was teachers, they wouldn't let Bessie and 
Lizette pick them romancin’ plays.”

        Trying hard not to laugh, David said, “Boys, you heard Miss Christy; go 
apologize to the others.”

        “Yes, Preacher,” they said and scurried off.

        By now the recitation had unofficially ended, and most  of the families 
had already headed home.  Bird’s Eye and Opal, the Allens, and Jeb 
Spencer stayed to help us clean up.

        “Thought hit all went real good,” Opal said encouragingly to me.  
“Don’t matter none ’bout them hawgs.”

        After everyone had gone, I sat out on the schoolhouse steps, reflecting 
on the day.  I found I wasn’t too disappointed about the play.  I buried 
my face in my hands and laughed.

        “Are you laughing or crying, lass?” Neil asked, sitting down beside me.

        “Oh,” I said through my laughter, “those stupid, stupid hogs!  And that 
raccoon!  It would be Creed Allen to end the school year with such a 
ruckus!”

        Neil joined my laughter, then said, “Well, I, personally am glad that 
school is out for the summer.”

        I looked at him in amazement.  “Why?”

        “You’ve been too busy!  It seems like we’ve hardly been together this 
month.”  He studied me for a moment.  “You’re absolutely worn out.”

        “I’ve missed being with you, too, and I promise to get more rest, 
Doctor.”

        “You had better,” Neil replied, leaning over and kissing me.

        I pulled away from him and cried, eyes wide in sudden realization,  
“Our wedding is in a week!”
   
**********************************************************************

Chapter:  Twenty-two
Summary:  Pre-wedding worries.

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

"The Joy of the Children", Chapter Twenty-two:

SOMEHOW, I managed to slip away from the dining room unnoticed.  I ran 
out the back door of the mission house and started up the hill.  The 
world was beautiful and peaceful, but I didn’t stop to admire my 
surroundings until I was at the top of the hill, out of sight from the 
mission.  I then stood, transfixed, in the open meadow to watch the 
sunset.  Never would I cease to be amazed by the beauty of those 
mountain sunsets . . .

        I let out a deep sigh.  At last I could breathe!  What a week it had 
been!  Why on earth had I planned my wedding for the week after school 
let out for the summer?  Ever since my family’s arrival shortly after 
the recitation, I felt I had been smothered.  Father was always looking 
wistfully at me when he thought I did not know, and we took more walks 
and had more talks than we had in my life.  He addressed me as “Girlie” 
every time he spoke to me, too.  I didn’t really mind Father’s 
attentiveness and sentimentality; I was, after all, his only daughter, 
and I was about to marry.

        But Mother!  She could think of more things---the most minute 
details---which must be attended to before my wedding.  Mother hovered 
over me every waking moment, and I felt like a child.  She was driving 
me crazy!  I was glad the wedding was the next day, though it was not 
until sundown.  How would I make it until the ceremony?  Mother would 
only be more fussy until then!

        I was pulled from my thoughts by a pair of strong arms encircling my 
waist.

        “Trying to escape, lass?”

        I nodded and leaned back in Neil’s embrace, and he rested his chin on 
top of my head.  “My parents haven’t left me alone since they got here.”
        “I know,” he replied.  “But they love you, Christy.  Be glad they can 
be here; I wish mine could . . .”

        Instantly I felt ashamed for complaining about my parents.  I turned to 
face Neil.  “I’m sorry.  I said that thoughtlessly.”

        “Don’t worry about it.”  He  placed a finger on my lips to silence my 
apology.  “I know what you meant.”              I kissed his finger and continued, 
indignantly, “It still came across as ungrateful, and it hurt you.  But 
I have a feeling your parents can see us, Neil, and will be watching 
tomorrow.”

        Neil smiled and took both my hands in his.  “I’m sure they will.  
Anyway, I’m too happy to think otherwise!  Tomorrow, Christy, I take you 
as my bride!”

        “Tomorrow,” I repeated, unable to keep from smiling.  “Sometimes I 
wondered if it would ever come.”

        “Me, too.  Sit down; let’s watch the stars come out, lass.”

        I felt so peaceful sitting in the soft, sweet-smelling heather, resting 
my head on Neil’s shoulder, his arm around me, neither of us saying a 
word.  The sky was ablaze with color as the fiery sun sank below the 
horizon, but suddenly, it seemed, we were gazing up into a blue-black 
vault scattered with a billion shimmering diamonds.

        “Christy!” Mother’s shrill cry pierced through the silence.  “Christy 
Huddleston, where are you?”  

        I groaned and muttered, “Perfect timing, Mother.”

        Neil laughed, and as he stood, pulled me to my feet and into his arms.  
“Listen to her calling!  We’d better go to her, lass; she’ll shout 
herself hoarse if you don’t go to her.”

        “I should have known you two would be off somewhere,” Mother said when 
we met her on the back porch of the mission house.  “But Christy, you 
ought to come in now and go to bed.  I’m sorry, Neil, to take her, but 
you will be seeing enough of her soon, and you should be off to your 
bed, also.  Tomorrow is a busy day.”

        “All right, Mother,” I said, trying not to show my annoyance.  “I’ll be 
in in a minute; just let me say good night to Neil.”

        “That will take more than a minute,” she answered, eyes twinkling, but 
she made no move to leave. 

        “You know, Mrs. Huddleston,” Neil said, “it’s getting a bit chilly out 
here, and you’ve been shouting.  Such a circumstances are known to 
result in laryngitis.”

        Mother laughed.  “You two want to get rid of me!”

        Both Neil’s and my faces flushed.  “No, that’s not what I meant . . .”  
he stammered.

        “Of course it is,” Mother said.  “But I take no offense.  Besides, you 
two won’t see each other until the ceremony tomorrow evening, and I 
don’t know how you will survive.”  She turned toward the door.  “Good 
night, Neil.”

        Once alone,  I wrapped my arms around Neil’s neck.  “You see what I’ve 
had to put up with?  She treats me like a child!  She even told you to 
‘be off to your bed’!”

        “I can see how it can be a bit trying,” Neil agreed, chuckling a 
little.  “But I think all mothers are that way; you’ll see when it’s our 
daughter getting married.”

        I wrinkled my nose at the thought.  “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, 
Neil!”

        “I love you so much, Christy!  What a lifetime we have before us!”

        My eyes brimmed with tears.  A lifetime!  Oh, what a lifetime!  

        Neil bent over me and kissed my lips sweetly . . . I returned his kiss 
eagerly and felt such a stirring inside I was almost frightened.  Ever 
conscious of what I was feeling, Neil gently pulled his lips from mine. 
 
        “I suppose we’d better be saying good night like you told your mother 
we would be,” he said with a small grin.  “But I must say that I don’t 
particularly want to; I’m glad this is the last time I’ll say good night 
and ride away from the mission without you; I’m glad there won’t be any 
more lonely nights.”

        I smiled but could not meet his penetrating gaze right away.  “Good 
night, Neil,” I finally said as I looked up at him.  “I love you.”
        “Sleep well, lass.”

        As I watched him ride away on Charlie, I recalled his words: ‘no more 
lonely nights.’  Neil MacNeill had been alone too long---so many long, 
lonely nights.  I turned and walked to the porch, thinking, resolutely, 
He’ll never be lonely again.  I smiled to myself as a thought for which 
Mother would surely have reprimanded me came to mind: I, too, was glad 
that here would be no more lonely nights.



MY WEDDING DAY dawned bright and clear.  I lay leisurely in bed for a 
few minutes as beams of golden, early-August sunlight danced in my 
curtains.  Today I marry Neil! I thought with a flutter of excitement.  
I sat up with a start as Mother burst into my room.

        “Christy, darling, what are you doing still in bed?  We have so much to 
do before the ceremony!”

        “Mother,” I said, glancing at the clock on my bedside table, “it’s only 
seven o’clock; the wedding isn’t until this evening.”

        “I know that, Christy,” Mother replied anxiously, “and I don’t know how 
I’m going to get you ready by then.”

        I only shook my head and got out of bed.

        Ten hours later, when Mother finally left my room, I sat down at my 
dressing table and heaved a great sigh.  Mother had seen to it that I 
was scoured and scrubbed from head to toe, in addition to two more 
baths---one in buttermilk, to soften my skin, and the other in 
rose-scented water;  I had washed my hair, and mother had twisted it up 
in  papers and later curled it again with a curling iron; she supervised 
me as I pinned up part of it and made sure all that each of my long 
curls was perfect; I had used powder , rouge, a touch of color on my 
lips, and my favorite perfume;  and when it came time to dress, not a 
thread or tuck or ruffle was out of place, from my gown to my petticoat 
to my silk stockings.

        Sitting there, in my wedding gown and veil, I was finally aware of the 
fluttery feeling in my stomach.  I had not had time to feel it all day, 
but now that I was alone and unoccupied, I realized that I was horribly 
nervous.  My hands trembled; all of me trembled!  I was getting married 
in less than an hour!  Soon---very soon---I would be leaving behind part 
of my life and stepping into another role.  I was to be Neil MacNeill’s 
wife---his lover, his helpmate.  Would I truly be able to give him all 
that he needed me to give?  

        “Dear God, I murmured.  “I love Neil so much, and more than anything I 
want to be his wife.  Thank You so much for this day in which we will 
come together.  But suddenly, Lord, I’m having some doubts.  I so much 
want to be the best wife, to meet Neil’s needs . . . I don’t know if I 
can do it.” 

        Just then, I began to laugh, and I realized that I wasn’t really afraid 
of being a bad wife; it was just that I suddenly became aware of the 
reality of the day’s events.  I was getting married!
        There was a knock at the door, and George came in. 
 
        “Yes, she is shaking,” he said, grinning.

        “George Huddleston, what are you doing?” I asked in my best teacher 
voice.

        “Well, I just went with David to get Neil, and Christy, he is a wreck. 
 
He never struck me as the type to get rattled, but boy, he’s nervous!  
He couldn’t even tie his tie straight, and he kept dropping things.”
        I smiled.  “What does that have to do with you?  Why did you come up 
here and say that I was shaking?”

        “Neil wants to know if you’re as nervous as he is, so he sent me to 
find out.”

        I nodded, and George cried, “Oh!  I almost forgot!” He reached into his 
jacket pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper.  “He wanted me to 
give you this.”

        “Thank you, George,” I said, reaching for it.

        “Not yet,” he said, withholding the paper.  “You’ve got to pay me for 
it.”

        “Oh, you rascal!” I cried, standing up and planting a kiss on his 
cheek.  

        “I guess that’ll work,” my brother said with a grin, and he handed me 
the note.  “I’d better get going;  Dad will be up soon.”

        “Wait a minute, George.  I just want to tell you that I’m going to miss 
you; come visit Neil and me when you can, all right?”

        “Sure thing, Christy,” he replied.  “Whenever I want to hunt or fish, I 
know where to come.”  Then my brother’s face turned serious, and he 
awkwardly embraced me.  “I’ll miss you, too.”

        I started to cry and said, laughing through my tears, “We’ve had some 
great times, haven’t we, little brother?”               George looked down at me, 
pulled out his handkerchief, and wiped away my tears.  “Now don’t go and 
get all sentimental.  Mom will be mad if you look like you’ve been 
crying.” Then he added, “And I’m hardly your little brother any more!”

        I laughed again.  Though he was three years younger than me, George was 
at least six inches taller than me!  I held him out at arm’s length.  
“You’re are tall!  What happened to my baby brother?”

        “You sound just like Mom! I’m getting out of here!” he said playfully, 
backing away from me.  “You can read your love note and go back to your 
shaking now.”

        “I love you, rascal,” I said, as George nodded and ran down the stairs 
clamorously.

        I sat down on the bed and read Neil’s hurried, masculine script:  

        Christy---I hope your nerves are faring better than mine, lass!  I’m 
thrilled to be marrying you, but I wish this was all over!  Maybe I 
won’t be nervous once the ceremony starts, but I doubt I’ll be calm, 
either;  I’m too excited!  See you soon!  I love you! ---Neil
        Smiling over the humorous but true lines, I traced Neil’s signature 
with my finger.  Knowing that he  felt the same way as I did calmed me a 
little, though only momentarily; at that moment, there was a soft rap at 
the door.

        “It’s time, Girlie,” my Father said, coming in and holding out his hand 
to me.  “Are you ready?”

        Trying to control the fierce pounding of my heart and the rapid 
fluttering in my stomach, I took his hand and nodded. 

        “I just wish I was,” he replied, choking  back tears. “My pretty little 
Girlie.” Father stroked my cheek tenderly.

        “I love you, Daddy.”

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

Chapter:  Twenty-three
Summary:  THE WEDDING!!!!!
*********************************************************************
"The Joy of the Children", Chapter Twenty-three


AS IF IN A DREAM, I glided down the stairs on my father’s arm.  There 
was Miss Alice, standing in the parlor with Mother.  How regal she 
looked in her white muslin dress, golden braids shining, grey eyes 
bright!  She was my maid of honor.

        “The guests are assembled and thy anxious groom is waiting at the 
church,” she smiled, kissing my forehead and pressing a bouquet of 
violets into my hands.  “How he will delight in thy loveliness!”

        “We shouldn’t keep him waiting any longer,” Father replied, and we soon 
we were all walking along the boardwalk to the church.

        There were so many people!  The filled the yard, as well as the church.  
But I hardly saw them as I made my way up the steps.

        I saw only him, Dr. Neil MacNeill.  My eyes were transfixed on him, and 
his on me.  It wasn’t just how handsome he looked in his dark suit, the 
setting sun reflected on his ruddy locks (trimmed, for the occasion); it 
was just him, waiting at the front of the church for me.  Here was the 
man with whom I would spend the rest of my life!

        David was talking, but I didn’t hear him.  Mother and Father embraced 
and kissed me, but I wasn’t completely aware of it and returned their 
affection mechanically.  Neil was smiling down at me, an expression of 
such love and rapture that made my heart beat wildly.  

        “You’re so beautiful,” he mouthed, taking my hands as David continued 
to speak.  

        There was so much emotion in Neil’s voice as he spoke his vows, 
promising “to have and to hold ,to love and to cherish, to honor and 
protect, forsaking all others, in sickness and in health, in adversity 
and in prosperity, for better or for worse, and to cleave only to her so 
long as we both shall live.”

        My lips trembled and my voice faltered as I pledged the same and 
uttered the words, “I do.”

        Then, for the first time, I heard the words David was speaking.  He 
held our gold rings in their air for all to see.        “These rings are 
tokens---outward symbols---of the vows Neil and Christy have spoken.  
They are emblems of eternity, and of steadfast devotion.   ‘Set me as a 
seal upon thine heart, as a seal upon thine arm: for love is strong as 
death; jealousy is cruel as the grave; the coals thereof are coals of 
fire, which hath a most vehement flame.  Many waters cannot quench love, 
neither can the floods drown it.’ ” 

        David’s voice was again drowned out as the meaning of Solomon’s song 
hit me like a wave crashing on the shore.  Eternity.  We are pledging 
our love, and love can only be eternal!

        Neil gently slipped the gleaming band onto my finger, repeating the 
words, “With this ring, I pledge myself to thee with all the affections 
of my heart, so long as we both shall live.”  Both our hands trembled, 
and when I looked up into his face . . .  

        I could not hold back any longer, and I burst into tears.  I sobbed and 
sobbed, weeping from the depths of my soul tears of pure joy.  Neil 
lovingly stroked my hand as he gazed down at me; David paused and waited 
for me to calm down, and at last I was able to speak the words which 
joined Neil and me forever.

        David prayed, then declared us man and wife.  “Neil, you may kiss your 
bride.”

        Neil leaned over me and kissed me passionately, deeply---as he had 
never before kissed me.  I wrapped my arms around his neck and gave 
myself completely to his kiss and returned it all the passion I could 
give.  I was oblivious to the crowd around us; only after our lips 
parted did I hear the hollers and whistles, and Jeb Spencer crying out, 
“Better’n under th’ mistle-toe last Christmas!  Dang, that Doc’s all fer 
romancin’!”

        The whole wedding party went over to the mission, where the party 
began.  We had quite a feast, complete with a beautiful wedding cake, 
over which Ida had labored all day.  The mountain people had never seen 
anything like it, and everyone---especially the children---wanted a huge 
slice.

        Creed Allen came over to me and laid a hand on my arm.  “You know, 
Teacher, this here shorely is good cake!  I reckon it was worth it t’ 
see all that fussy romancin’ jest t’ git a piece o’ hit!”

        I laughed, and Neil said,  “Go get yourself another piece, Creed.  
Someday you’ll learn that the romancin’ is the best part of all.”

        Creed gave him an uncertain look as two of them walked over to the 
refreshment tables.  “Ye’ve shorely got hit bad, Doc.  But I reckon ye 
know what hit is yer talkin’ about, so’s I’ll jest take yer word fer 
hit.  Maybe I’ll even try some of that romancin’ myself someday.” 

        A group of girls---Ruby Mae, Clara and Zady, Bessie, and Lizette came 
over to me.  They all seemed rather bashful, except for Ruby Mae, who 
boldly said, “We ain’t never seen sech a dress, Miz Christy!  Would ye 
mind if’n we was t’ tech hit?”

        “Our hands is right clean,” Clara assured me.  “We ain’t had none o’ 
that cake nor nothin’ yit.”

        “Of course you may,” I told them, and their rough hands immediately 
fingered the material.  

        “Lordamercy!” cried Bessie.  “Ain’t hit a wonder?  Hit’s smooth as 
glass, and this here stuff---what d’ye call hit, Teacher---hit’s jest 
what angels must wear!”

        “That’s lace,” I explained.  “And underneath is satin.”

        “Makes a perty swishin’ noise when ye move,” Bessie observed.

        “When I get hitched,” Zady said, looking longingly at my dress, “I’m 
goin’ t’ buy me a dress jest like this’un, and I’m goin’ t’ smell jest 
like ye do, Miz Christy.”

        “Oh!  I jest love weddins!” squealed Ruby Mae.  “Miz Christy, I’ve jest 
got t’ tell ye---I ain’t never seen sech a kiss in my whole life!  Yer 
shorely goin’ t’ have some kind o’ night t’night wi’ Doc!”

        “Ruby Mae!” I cut her off sharply, feeling my cheeks grow crimson.  The 
other girls were giggling giddily.  “That’s not a proper topic of 
discussion.”

        Fortunately, at that moment We were interrupted by my mother, who was 
on the verge of more tears, even though she had cried throughout the 
entire ceremony.  Grasping my hands, she said, “Christy, it was so 
beautiful---the most beautiful wedding I’ve ever seen!  And that passage 
from Song of Solomon Reverend Grantland read---oh, it was beautiful!  I 
know  you and Neil will be very, very happy together!”

        Jeb was tuning up his fiddle about then, and Father joined us.  “My I 
have the first dance with the lovely bride?”

        “Yes, Daddy!”

        As we danced to a mountain waltz, Father said, “You’re so grown up, 
Christy; you’ve made this old man very proud.”

        I could only smile, and after a few minutes of  blissful silence he 
looked over his shoulder and said, “The good Doctor is waiting very 
patiently, but I can see he’s longing to dance with you.”

        The waltz ended, and good-naturedly, Father took my hand and led me 
back over to Neil.  “Dance with your wife, Doctor.”

        “We’re a-waltzin’ Matilda!”  Uncle Bogg was shouting.  “Waltzin’ 
Matilda!  Partner up, all o’ ye!”

        I was a little surprised.  “I wouldn’t have expected the mountain 
people to know ‘Waltzing Matilda’.”

        “Another carry-over of the people’s Scotch-Irish heritage,” Neil 
commented, “and it’s one of the favorites here.  May I have this dance, 
Mrs. MacNeill?”  He emphasized the words and grinned.

        “I’ve been waiting for this all day, my dear,” I answered as he led me 
out to where the other dancers were gathering.

        Dance after dance we whirled and twirled, joking, laughing, sometimes 
singing.  The stars were out, and the mission yard was illuminated by 
torch light.  Owls called, nightingales sang, and crickets and locusts 
chirped above the gay, rollicking voice of Jeb’s fiddle.  What a perfect 
night!  How wonderful it was to dance with Neil at our wedding!

        “I think now it’s time for us to make our escape,” Neil said suddenly.  

        I looked around; I hadn’t even noticed that the circle of dancers was 
smaller.  There was a cluster of women off near the mission house, 
looking in our direction.  

        Taking my hand, Neil pulled me toward a cluster of trees, where David 
was waiting with Charlie.  “Your horse, Doctor.”

        “Thanks, David,” Neil replied, swinging up on the horses’ back, then 
pulling me up behind him, just as a crowd of people gathered around 
saying things like: “What’n tarnation d’ ye think yer doin’?” and  “We 
need y’all down here on th’ ground!”

        “No you don’t,” my husband laughed, and I clung tightly to him as 
several women grabbed for me.  “Christy and I don’t wish to be 
shivareed.”

        “Ain’t  a proper marriage without no shivaree!” Uncle Bogg cried.

        “Believe me, Bogg, it will be a proper marriage,” Neil said.  “Tonight 
will work just the same, only none of you will be at our cabin.”

        “Still ain’t right.”  Uncle Bogg was adamant.  “Hit’s always been done, 
an’ I say, yer missin’ out on th’ best part.”

        “Do ye really think ol’ Neil’s simple enough to forget about that?” 
cried Jeb merrily.  “Y’all seen how he kissed Miz Christy!” 
    
        I groaned in embarrassment, and turned my face away, only to see 
Mother, who was obviously horrified at the coarse talk.  Neil was just 
laughing, seemingly enjoying the jokes.  

        Uncle Bogg grinned.  “Wall, then, git on out o’ here!  Git! Go on!”  He 
slapped Charlie’s rump with his hat.  

        We waved to our friends (Mother was crying again, blowing kisses and 
saying goodbye; Daddy called after Neil take good care of me), and then 
we were off to the cabin.  The ride was peaceful, and I nearly fell 
asleep then and there.  

        “Sorry to have embarrassed you back there,” Neil said presently.  

        “That’s all right.  I wasn’t nearly as embarrassed as I would have been 
if we had been shivareed.  Of course, Mother didn’t seem very amused by 
all the joking about---about---tonight.”

        “I didn’t even think about your parents hearing me say that,” he 
chuckled, a bit chagrined.  “Will they be angry?”

        “No,” I replied.  “I think they’ll get over it..  It was funny, and it 
prevented further pressure to---spend the night at the mission.”

        After a while, Neil said, “I’ll remember this day forever, lass; it’s 
the happiest one of my life.”

        Before I could reply, we had arrived at the cabin.  Neil dismounted, 
tethered Charlie, then lifted me off the horse’s back and carried me to 
the door. 

        “Welcome home, Christy,” he whispered, his brogue husky, leaning over 
me as he stepped across the threshold.

        And, overcome by the intense love in his expression and tone, I 
repeated breathlessly,  “Yes, Neil---home.”


Chapter:  Twenty-four
Summary:  The honeymoon.


"The Joy of the Children", Chapter Twenty-four:

MY EYES fluttered open early the next morning.  I let out an involuntary 
sigh as I thought how secure and comfortable I felt at that moment, and 
I realized where I was.  Muscular arms were wrapped lovingly around me, 
and I smiled to think that the wonderful events of the previous day had 
not just been dreams.

        I didn’t move, but lay there listening to Neil’s deep, even breathing 
as my eyes wandered around the room, which was a bit transformed (Miss 
Alice’s doing, I was sure) since the last time I had seen it, that long 
ago day when I had been drenched in the creek.  Directly across the 
room, next to the bureau, stood a new dressing table with a 
blue-cushioned stool, laid out with a dainty lace runner, a vase of 
flowers, and all my feminine toiletries.  The windows were trimmed with 
pale yellow curtains, and one of Granny Barclay’s woven rugs covered the 
wooden planks of the floor.   Gone was plain bedspread which had 
previously covered Neil’s bed; we lay underneath fine white linen sheets 
trimmed in eyelet lace (a gift from mother) and Fairlight’s beautiful 
quilt.  

        However, I soon lost interest in the contents of the bedroom, and I 
turned my head upward to look at my sleeping husband.  

        “Good morning, Mrs. MacNeill,” he grinned.
  
        “How long have you been awake?” I asked, a bit surprised.  He had lain 
so still!

        “Just a little while.  I was just watching you sleep.”

        “Well, I’m sure that was very interesting,” I teased.  “I suppose 
you’ve discovered that I don’t do it any differently than you do.”

        “Not too differently,” Neil replied, “but I know I’m not nearly as 
pretty as you are when I’m asleep.”  He rolled over on his side so that 
we faced each other.  “Did you sleep well?”

        “Very well,” I said coquettishly.

        Neil laughed.  “Me, too, lass.”

        We just stared at each other for a minute or two, drinking in the 
moment.  

        “You know, Christy,” Neil finally said, drawing me to him, “I love you 
more every second.  I feel as though I could burst!”

        “Please don’t, Neil; it would ruin the sheets.”

        “Cynical girl!” he cried, kissing me.

        “I feel the same way, dear!” I assured him, and once again we lapsed 
into contented silence.  I thought about the week ahead---Dan Scott had 
offered to take all the medical calls so that Neil and I could have our 
‘honeymoon’.  We were not going anywhere, but we were going to spend the 
time together, just the two of us, doing whatever we pleased.

        “We have an entire week all to ourselves, Neil,” I said.

        “I know.  What will we do, lass?”

        I smiled coyly.  “I’m sure we’ll think of something.”

        Neil rose up on his elbows and stared at me in pretend amazement.  “Is 
this my proper little schoolteacher speaking?”

        “Oh, but we’re married now, my dear Dr. MacNeill.”

        “I know,” he replied, sweeping me up into his arms.  He kissed me so 
passionately I thought I was going to faint.  A brief thought crossed my 
mind:  I wonder what it’s like to swoon.  But soon I wasn’t thinking at 
all.

        A few minutes later I lay on the pillows, breathing rapidly as Neil sat 
smiling at me.  We gazed into each other’s eyes, and he whispered,  
twining his fingers through mine, “I’ve never been so happy, Christy.  I 
love every minute of loving you.”

         A loud growl from Neil’s stomach interrupted the moment and sent me 
into peals of helpless laughter.

        “Wasn’t that a perfect touch to a romantic moment?” he commented with a 
groan of mock-embarrassment.  

        I slipped out of bed and into my robe and tossed Neil’s at him.  “Come 
along, dear.  Let’s go have breakfast.” 


MY LIFE as a married woman began even more wonderfully than I had ever 
imagined.  Of course, it was because I was married to Neil that made it 
wonderful, and that week of uninterrupted intimacy was perfect.  We went 
for long walks together in the woods, galloped across the open meadows 
on Charlie; we fished and danced and lounged lazily in the cabin; we 
talked seriously sometimes, but there was also an abundance of joking 
and teasing and flirting; and every moment was wonderful.

        One evening we had ridden far from the cabin, to one of Neil’s favorite 
places high up on a mountain.  From our vantage point, we could see the 
entire Cove and even make out the mission.  We watched the glorious 
sunset from an eagle’s-eye view, then sat up there all night so we could 
see the sun rise the next morning.  That next day happened to be Sunday, 
and Neil and I had our own worship service on the mountaintop.  Neil 
brought out his Bible from Charlie’s saddlebags, and together we read 
from the Scriptures.  We sang and shouted out our praises to God.  Then 
we were silent, in personal communion with the Lord.  Those few hours on 
“God’s Fist”, as the mountain was called, were the most intense ones of 
my life.  I felt a union with God that I had never felt before.  So did 
Neil.  And that linked us even closer together than ever.

        Another afternoon we were out fishing, and I took off my shoes and 
stockings to wade in the icy waters of the stream.  I gathered up my 
skirts and went over to Neil.

        “Don’t fall,” I said, giving him a playful shove.  My stalwart husband 
didn’t move a centimeter, but as I pushed him, I slipped on a rock and 
fell headlong into the stream.  

        “What was that you said, lass?” Neil laughed.  

        I groaned and splashed him, only to have him return the splash.  
        “That was really stupid of me to try to push you.  You’re a lot bigger 
and much stronger than me,” I said. 

        “Aye,” Neil replied.  “But I’ll not tell.”  And he plopped down next to 
me in the water.  “Now we’re even.”

        “No, dear---your hair isn’t wet.”  I splashed him again, and that 
started a “water fight”.  We really were acting like children, shouting 
and laughing, dunking, chasing and splashing, but we didn’t care; this 
was our honeymoon, and no one was around to see.

        So we thought.  Neil had me in his arms, prepared to dunk me under, 
when we were startled by a resounding, “U-NITED STATES MA-IL!”  There 
stood Ben Pentland, at the top of the hill, grinning at the spectacle 
playing out before him.  I nearly died of embarrassment, for I was 
soaked to the skin, and my chemise was visible through my drenched, 
clinging blouse.  

        “Ben!” cried Neil merrily as he stood up, still holding me, “Are you 
spying?”

        “Naw!” laughed the mailman.  “But, law, I’ve got a story t’ tell!  Near 
everyone hereabouts is plumb dizzified wondrin’ what ye two’s up to away 
out’n here by yerselves!”

        “Well, now you know, and I’m sure the whole Cove will know soon.  But 
if you’re not spying,” Neil pressed, “what are you doing?  Have you got 
mail for us?”

        “Shorely do,” Ben answered.  “A big crate, cum Ashe-ville way. ”

        Neil carried me up the hill to where Ben stood, ignoring my protests 
that I could walk. 

        “You don’t  have any shoes on, lass.  I don’t want you to cut or bruise 
your pretty little feet.”

        Finally, I laughed at the hilarity of the situation.  I didn’t care 
that Neil and I had been caught acting like lovers or that we were 
dripping wet or that I was being carried up the hill.  It was so funny, 
and I was so happy!

        It turned out that  the crate contained portraits that had been made 
when Neil and I were in Asheville---pictures of Grandmother Rudd, 
uncles, aunts, cousins, my parents and George, all of us together, Neil, 
me, the two of us---all beautifully framed.

        There was also a letter from Mother.  Neil looked over my shoulder as I 
perused it.     

        We had a nice visit in Cutter Gap . . . again, the wedding was very 
beautiful . . . I was quite shocked when I heard all of that teasing 
about---you know---and how lightly Neil took it, but Miss Henderson 
explained the shivaree custom to me later and how the mountain people 
embrace it so strongly, I realized that Neil did a good job of getting 
you out of that situation . . .

        “Thank the Lord for Alice and that your mother took it that way,” Neil 
said.

        Ben, who had been very curious about the contents of the crate and 
stayed to watch us open it, finally said, “Wall, hit was nice t’ see ye.  
I’ll leave now, and ye kin git back t’ yer romancin’.”

        Such were the events of our honeymoon.  The week was full and 
fulfilling, though it seemed to fly by quickly.  But I tucked away every 
single detail of those days into my heart.  Whatever Neil and I did, we 
were together, creating a bond that would never be broken.  Our love was 
a vehement flame.  Many waters could  not quench it; neither could the 
floods drown it.

**********************************************************************
Chapter:  Twenty-five
Summary:  I can't think of a good one for this Chapter.
*********************************************************************


"The Joy of the Children", Chapter Twenty-five

LIFE IN CUTTER GAP had been almost too good to be true ever since the 
typhoid epidemic the previous autumn:  Bird’s Eye Taylor had become a 
Christian and married Opal; the Taylor-Allen feud had ended, and so had 
moonshining; the adult education classes had been very successful; the 
Cove had another doctor and teacher; Neil and I were married . . .  The 
list went on and on, and I was so deeply aware that the Lord was truly 
at work in our mountain community, I began to forget all of the troubles 
and hardships which had plagued it for so long.  Things were changing; 
life was good!  Unfortunately, I also forgot that just because God 
changes people and situations, life isn’t always full of happiness and 
good things.  Sometimes we must learn to find joy in the midst of trials 
and tribulations.  And little did I know that I would soon be awakened 
to that truth.

        It had been an unusually hot and dry summer in the mountains, and as 
September approached, and the crops began to turn brown and withered, 
many of the farmers were afraid of losing their crops before harvest 
time.  I knew as well as they did that losing the crops really meant 
losing an entire year’s income---which would be disastrous to these 
already impoverished, large families.   Oh, if only the autumn weather 
would come!  If only it would rain!

        One Sunday, near the end of August, while we were in church, David’s 
prayer was interrupted by a loud crash of thunder, and immediately, 
everyone was crowding the aisles and the doorway, craning necks to see 
the dark clouds which had suddenly burst, showering the thirsty meadows 
and fields with cool, refreshing drops.  Some of the men and children 
ran out into the downpour, hollering and whooping for joy; and the rest 
of us joined Aunt Hattie in singing a hymn of thanks. 

        The rains continued for a week, and the crops drank heartily of the 
water, growing green and healthy once more.  However, the weather stayed 
warm, and the rains continued, two weeks, three . . . By mid-September, 
the weather still had not broken, and the fields were mud holes.  The 
entire Cove was dismayed by the change from one extreme to the other.  
People tried to keep their spirits up by saying that it would just be a 
late harvest, but then October came, and with it, a hail storm that 
ended all hope of even the smallest harvest.  Every stalk of corn, every 
head of wheat, was utterly destroyed. 

        Most of the mountain people did pretty well hunting at first, but the 
inclement weather drove most of the game into hiding.  And soon, with 
the winter snows approaching, the deer and bears would be hibernating.   
But the most disturbing problem, however, was how the people were going 
to buy next year’s seed.  Few of them had any money, and none of them 
could afford to go into debt.  

        I couldn’t bear to see the hungry eyes of the children when I went to 
church or called on my friends.  Worry plagued my thoughts and my 
prayers.  I wracked my brain---and Neil’s and Miss Alice’s and David’s 
and the Scotts’---trying to think of ways to help provide food and money 
for the people.  I went to El Pano one day and bought an abundance of 
canned foods to take to some of the families of my school children.  I 
was very discouraged when I had gone to house after house only to have 
my offer declined each time.  

        “Thank ye, Miz Christy,” they said.  “But we won’t be beholdin’.  We’ll 
git by.”

        I cried in frustration to Neil that night.  “They’re starving, Neil!  
We can give them so much; why won’t they let us help?”

        “They’re too proud, Christy,” he answered.  “You’ve been here long 
enough to see that.”

        I shook my head.  “So they would watch their children starve to death 
rather than hurt their pride?”

        “No, they’ll ignore the rumbling of their own stomachs and give their 
children everything they have.”

        “Then all the adults will starve to death and the Cove will be left 
with orphans with no means of supporting themselves!”

        Neil laughed at that, and it infuriated me.  “This is not funny,” I 
snapped.

        “No, lass, it’s not funny.  But it will not get is bad as that, I 
promise.  The people of the Cove have had failed harvests before.”
        “Well, maybe,” I added reluctantly.  “But isn’t there something we can 
do to help?”

        “Pray.”

        Pray, I thought rebelliously.  How easy it is to just say prayer is the 
answer for everything and sit back and do nothing and tell people God 
will provide.  “And what if that’s not enough?” I blurted out.

        Neil’s steady gaze and answer put me to shame at once.  “If prayer 
isn’t enough, Christy, then we’re all doomed.”

        From that moment, I never stopped praying; no matter what I was doing, 
my mind and my heart were constantly in communion with the Lord. 
Finally, I understood the meaning of First Thessalonians Seventeen, and 
also the two surrounding verses: “Rejoice always . . . in everything 
give thanks . . .”  God became so real in prayer, my natural response 
was to rejoice and give thanks. 

        In fact, all of the mission staff devoted themselves to prayer, both 
privately and corporately.  Every morning Neil and I prayed together for 
the people of the Cove and for God’s provision, and twice a week we rode 
over to join Miss Alice, Ida and David, and Dan and Cecile for a time of 
prayer.  We all were filled with assurance that God was going to take 
care of us and the mountain people; the only problem now was for the 
people to have that same assurance.  And since the hail storm, the 
Sunday morning crowds and become considerately smaller.

        “I’d like to thank all of you who are here this morning,” David began 
one sermon.  “I am glad to see you staying strong in the faith and 
continuing to attend church.  I know that most of you are facing trials 
and hardships right now, and I want you all to know that each one of you 
is in my prayers.”

        He paused, scanning the faces of the congregation: Neil and I, Miss 
Alice, Ida, the Scotts, Jeb and his children, the Taylors, the Allens, 
Uncle Bogg, Will and Ruby Mae, and a handful of the older women barely 
filled the first few rows of the church.  David’s eyes were moist as he 
said,  “Before we go into God’s Word, let us pray.

        “Father, we come before You now with humble hearts and praise for Thee.  
We thank You for bringing us together now for this time of worship, and 
we also lift up our brothers and sisters who are not present.”

        David’s voice was hoarse with emotion as he continued, “Lord Almighty, 
our Cove is undergoing a time of testing and tribulation, and sometimes 
it is very difficult to have faith in You.  Help each one of us to take 
our eyes off our circumstances and trust that You will provide.  Give us 
Your strength, Lord, and willing spirits to obey You in all things.  In 
Jesus’ Name we pray, amen.”

        “Amen,” several of the men said at once, and David’s face lit up as he 
opened his Bible and read:

        “ ‘My brethren, count it all joy when ye fall into diverse temptations; 
knowing this, that the trying of your faith worketh patience.  But let 
patience have her perfect work, that ye may be perfect and entire, 
wanting nothing.  If any of you lack wisdom, let him as of God, that 
giveth to all men liberally, and upbraideth not; and it shall be given 
him.  But let him ask in faith, nothing wavering.  For he that wavereth 
is like a wave of the sea driven with the wind and tossed.  For let not 
that man think that he shall receive any thing of the Lord.  A double 
minded man is unstable in all his ways.  Let the brother of low degree 
rejoice in that he is exalted:  but the rich, in that he is made low: 
because as the flower of the grass he shall pass away.  For the sun is 
no sooner risen with a burning heat, but it withereth the grass, and the 
flower threreof falleth, and the grace of the fashion of it perisheth: 
so also shall the rich man fade away in his ways. 
 
        “ ‘Blessed is the man that endureth temptation: for when he is tried, 
he shall receive the crown of life, which the Lord hath promised to them 
that love Him.  Let no man say when he is tempted, “I am tempted of 
God”: for God cannot be tempted with evil, neither tempteth He any man:  
but every man is tempted, when he is drawn away of his own lust, and 
enticed.  Then when lust hath conceived, it bringeth forth sin, when it 
is finished, bringeth forth death.  Do not err, my beloved brethren.

        “ ‘Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, and cometh 
down from the Father of lights, with Whom is no variableness, neither 
shadow of turning.  Of His own will begat He us the word of truth, that 
we should be a kind of firstfruits of His creatures.’ 

        “Friends,” David said, “Does that portion of Scripture not apply 
directly to the situation here in the Cove?  You are all faced with 
trials and the temptation to turn away from God right now, but He 
intends for you to be drawn to Him and rely on Him even more in this 
time.  

        “None of us knows why God has allowed the harvest to fail here, but it 
has happened, and if we try to figure out the whys and wherefores, we 
will not only come up with no answers, we will not be able to trust in 
the Lord.

        “Proverbs Three says, ‘Trust in the Lord with all thine heart; and lean 
not unto thine own understanding.  In all thy ways acknowledge Him, and 
He shall direct thy paths.’ 

        “You see, God does not want us to try to understand the situations in 
our lives.  If I look at the present circumstances as I see them, all I 
will understand is that after a hot, dry summer, we prayed for rain, and 
God sent a deluge and a hail storm that destroyed this year’s harvest; I 
will only be focused on what has happened, not on what God has in store 
for us in the future.

        “We cannot understand the ways of God.  But God does, and He wants us 
to rely on Him and His understanding.   In Chapters Thirty-eight through 
Forty-one of the Book of Job, the Lord declares to His servant Job, who 
has lost everything he had, the many things He knows.”  

        As David read the two chapters, his voice rising with passion at the 
words, everyone in the church listened breathlessly. 
 
        “ ‘Then Job answered the Lord, and said, “I know that Thou canst do 
every thing, and that no thought can be withholden from Thee.  Who is he 
that hideth counsel without knowledge.  Therefore have I uttered that I 
understood not; things too wonderful for me, which I knew not.  Hear, I 
beseech Thee, and I will speak:  I will demand of Thee, and declare Thou 
unto me.  I have heard of the by the hearing of the ear; but now mine 
eye seeth thee.  Wherefore I abhor myself, and repent in dust and 
ashes.” ’ ”

        The young Reverend’s dark eyes shone as he concluded the lengthy 
passage.  The building was utterly silent, and I could feel the Spirit 
of God there with us.

        “I do not believe that there is anything left for me to say,” David 
said.  “Let us pray together once more.”

        After we had been dismissed, the congregation filed out of the church, 
still a bit quiet.  But then a wonderful thing happened.  Bird’s Eye was 
shaking David’s hand, and he said, his face glowing, “Never heered 
nothin’ like hit, Rev’rend.  Shorely no man could never speak sech 
powerful words.  I felt ’em right inside me, like th’ Almighty was 
speakin’ right t’ me.  Warn’t no made up sarmin a-tall.”

        “I be feelin’ the same way,” added Bob Allen, and there were other nods 
and murmurs of the same kind.  

        Then Opal added, in her soft-spoken way, “I reckon we all know we’s 
s’posed t’ go’n share what we’ve larned wi’ those who is weak right now.  
Shorely I could never say nothin’ like that afore, but now I know th’ 
Lord’ll say hit fer me, in His time.” 

        Those few people who had attended church that Sunday left with 
assurance---and the hearts of missionaries.  They shared what the Lord 
had spoken to them, and the next Sunday, a few more seats were filled in 
the little schoolhouse-church.

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


Chapter:  Twenty-six    
Summary:  The MacNeills make a little discovery.
**********************************************************************


"The Joy of the Children", Chapter Twenty-six:

THE SUMMER SCOURGE had not come in 1913, and for the first 
two-and-a-half months of our marriage, things had been rather slow for 
Neil..  An occasional sick baby or child called him away from home at 
night, but he had few calls to make other than his usual daily rounds.

        Unfortunately, in early October,  an outbreak of influenza kept Neil 
and Dan Scott busy for several weeks, and as they were the only doctors 
for  fifty miles, I saw less of my husband than I would have liked.  

        I tried not to let Neil’s absences bother me, and sometimes I 
accompanied him.  But towards the end of the month I got  busy preparing 
for the upcoming school term, and I was often alone in our cabin.  Neil 
was very sensitive to this and always came home as soon as he could, 
leaving me love notes when he could only stop by for a few minutes to 
replenish his medical supplies.  I always tried to have a pot of coffee 
and some food on the stove for him, since I never knew when he would 
come in or when he had last had a chance to eat.  

        One night, Neil came in after midnight, after attending a sick family 
in Lufty Branch.  As I scurried about the kitchen heating him some stew, 
he sat at the table, barely able to keep his eyes open.  Yet he smiled 
at me and said, “I don’t know why you put up with me, lass.  I’ve been 
riding around all over these mountains with hardly any time for you, 
even though I love you more than anything in this world.”  He got up and 
wrapped his arms around me.  “When I come home to you, I wonder how I 
can ever go out that door again.”  Then he bent over and kissed me, and 
we became so engrossed in each other, food and sleep and influenza were 
completely forgotten.  

        School began on the Twenty-ninth of October, much to my relief.  Not 
only was I ready to be back with the children, but it also took my mind 
off of the possibility of going home to an empty cabin.  However, when I 
got home and opened the front door, I was immediately caught up in 
Neil’s embrace, and he swung me around the room.  “I think we’re just 
about through with influenza!”  

        And for the next two weeks, Neil was only out one night---to deliver 
Opal Taylor’s two-month premature, yet perfectly formed and healthy, 
baby girl.


WEARILY, I fell into bed one night in mid-November and began to cry 
bitterly.  Why, oh why had I acted that way?  Neil and I had just 
finished a late supper (late because I was exhausted when I got home 
from school and took a nap), when there was a fierce pounding at the 
door and a message that there was “a family ’cross Pebble Mountain  wi’ 
all th’ young’uns spikin’ up fevers”.  Immediately Neil assured the man 
he was on his way and ran to his laboratory for his medical bags.  

        Upon coming back to the kitchen, where I was furiously scrubbing a pot, 
he said, “I’ll be back as soon as I can.” 

        I did not look at him.  “Can’t you send Dan?”

        “Dan’s been out three nights this week, Christy,” Neil said with a 
heavy sigh.  “I can’t lay all my calls on him, especially since I’m the 
trained physician.”  He put his arm around my shoulders.  “I’m sorry to 
be going again, lass.  But I’m needed.”

        For some reason, I shied away from his touch, gentle and loving as it 
was.  “Why does somebody always have to be sick?  Can’t they ever wait 
until morning? Don’t they realize that I need you more than a few 
nights?”  The words were out of my mouth before I even thought about 
them.

        Neil looked hurt, and I felt horribly, but I didn’t apologize.  He 
quickly kissed my cheek and said, on his way out the door, “I’m sorry, 
Christy.  I thought you understood.”

        Laying there in the dark, on the cold, lonely bed, in the empty cabin, 
I scolded myself for my hasty, heartless words.  I made him feel just 
like Margaret had made him feel.  Neil never spoke of her, but I 
wondered if he ever thought of her---especially tonight when I had said 
that. Oh, why had I not been more patient and considerate?  Neil was 
only doing what he was called to do.

        I awoke hours later to the sound of the front door opening.  Neil was 
home!  With a glance out the window and the wan, grey light, I guessed 
it was nearly five o’clock.  I leaped out of bed and ran downstairs 
without stopping to put on my robe and slippers.  In an instant I was 
clinging to my husband.  

        “I’m so sorry, Neil!  I didn’t mean those things I said!  I don’t know 
what came over me.  I’m not resentful that you have to go to your 
patients; that’s why you are here---to take care of people!  Oh, please 
forgive me!”

        “Of course I forgive you, lass,” he said, his weary expression 
brightening.  

        “What was it?” I asked.  “Are the children all right?”

        “Scarlet fever,” Neil replied grimly.  “Three children have it.  I left 
them in fair condition, and I have to go back, but I wanted to check on 
you first and tell you.”

        I felt ashamed.  “You shouldn’t have done that, Neil.”

        “Yes, I should have.  I am a husband as well as a doctor, and it’s my 
first duty to be a husband .”  He gazed at me tenderly.  “Especially 
when things aren’t right between us.”

        “I am sorry,” I whispered, rising up on my toes to kiss him, and by his 
response, I knew all was forgiven and forgotten.  

        A few minutes later I was busy getting clothes and food for Neil to add 
to the contents of his saddlebags.  He wasn’t sure how long he would be 
gone, but he promised he would send word if it was longer than two days.  
After Neil kissed me goodbye, I suddenly became very aware of a horrible 
queasy feeling in my stomach.  

        “Are you all right, lass?” he asked, a bit worried.  

        “I’m fine,” I told him, fighting back the nausea.  “Just tired.”

        “Take care of yourself,” he ordered, pointing his finger at me, “and 
get help from Alice or Dan if you need it, do you understand?”

        I nodded, smiling at his commanding air.  “Yes, Doctor.”  I watched him 
mount Charlie.  “I love you.”

        “I love you, too, lass,” Neil waved.  

        When I went back in the cabin, I had to lay down on the sofa, I was so 
overcome by waves of nausea.  “I can’t be sick; I won’t be sick.”

        I forced myself to go upstairs and dress and get ready for school, and 
somehow I made it there.  The day was long; the children seemed more 
energetic than usual, and Cecile left at lunchtime with a sore throat  
By the end of the day, I was exhausted, but I did not feel sick any 
longer.  As soon as I got home I ate something---I didn’t know or care 
what, I was so tired---and  went straight to bed.  At least, I thought 
as I drifted into slumber, if I’m asleep I won’t notice that Neil’s not 
here beside me.  

        I did not awaken until morning, and again, when I got out of bed, I 
felt sick.  It was almost unbearable today, and I lay in bed for some 
minutes, doubled over.  When the queasiness subsided a little, I went to 
the window, opened it, and took deep breaths of the cold, crisp air.  
The fresh air helped me feel well enough to make it to school, but by 
the time I got there, I thought my stomach was going to reject the dry 
toast and water I had eaten for breakfast.  

        I sat down on the schoolhouse steps and put my head between my knees. 

        “Christy, what’s wrong?” I looked up into David’s anxious face.  

Quickly, I stood up.  “Nothing.  I’m fine.”  But I lost my balance, 
suddenly dizzy.  

        “I don’t think you’re fine, Christy,” David said with a shake of his 
head.  “Cecile has a sore throat and a fever; you may be coming down 
with something, too.”  He took my arm.  “I think Dan should have a look 
at you; Neil would kill me if I let you teach in this condition.”

        Resolutely, I lifted my head and poked out my chin.  I felt steady now, 
and I assured David that I would be all right.  “I’ve just been really 
tired lately, and it’s hard with Neil being gone.  I promise you, David, 
I’m well enough to teach.”

        Again, the day was long and tiresome, and again I went home and slept.  
I woke up at about eight o’clock,  realizing I was still wearing my 
clothes.  I washed my face and was about to put on my nightgown, when I 
spied one of Neil’s shirts folded on top of the dresser.  I picked it up 
and put it on.  It smelled like him, and I felt a little more secure as 
I slipped my arms into the sleeves, feeling as if it was Neil’s arms 
around me instead of the soft, plaid fabric.  Catching a glimpse of my 
reflection in the mirror, I realized how silly I looked wearing my 
husband’s shirt; it swallowed me, and it came down to my knees.  Neil 
really is a big man, I thought with a smile.  So strong and rugged.  I 
loved how anything having to do with Neil made me feel safe and 
cherished.  

        I felt a lot better then, and I was wide awake, so I went downstairs to 
read my Bible by the fire.  However, my  eyelids soon grew heavy again, 
and the next thing I knew, Neil’s soft, warm lips were on mine.  

        “You’re home!” I cried---very sleepily---gazing up at him.

        “Yes, I’m home,” Neil smiled, with a glance at the clock.  “What are 
you doing up?  It’s after eleven.”  

        “I slept all afternoon, and I woke up and couldn’t go back to sleep.”  
I didn’t want to talk about myself anymore.  “How are you?”

        “The children will be fine,” he replied. 

        “Good,” I said, “but I was asking about you.”

        “I’m fine, too,” Neil answered, yawning, “but very tired.”

        I got up from the big, soft chair.  “Can I get you anything?  Something 
to eat?”

        Neil shook his head.  “I’m not hungry.  Let’s just go to bed.”

        Together we ascended the stairs, and as we got ready for bed, Neil 
commented, a question in his voice, “You said you slept all 
afternoon---you look really worn-out.”

        “Do I?”

        “You have dark circles under your eyes.  You haven’t been feeling well, 
have you?”

        “I’m fine.”

        Neil looked at me skeptically, and it irritated me.  “It’s past eleven, 
Neil, as you say.  You haven’t slept properly in a few days yourself, am 
I right?  Let’s just go to bed.”

        My husband smiled and held out his hands as if defeated.  “All right.  
By the way, that shirt is just your color.”

        Neil was still asleep when I awoke---sick, for the third day in a row.  
What was wrong with me?  My head throbbed, too, and I was so dizzy I had 
to cling to the banister when I went downstairs.  Maybe I should tell 
Neil, I thought, but quickly decided against it.  He will only worry, 
and I’ve been fine by lunchtime every day, anyway.  It’s just a queasy 
stomach. 
 
        I began to prepare Neil a large breakfast---biscuits and gravy, eggs, 
sausage, and fresh coffee.  I’ll just think of him and how hard he’s 
been working, and that will get my mind off of how I feel.  It worked, 
until the smells of the cooking food filled my nostrils, and I had to 
make a dash for air.  I was all right in a minute or two, and when I 
went back inside, Neil was coming downstairs.

        “Something smells good,” he commented, his eyes alighting on me.  “What 
were you doing outside?”

        “Fresh air---in the morning---always---always makes me feel better,” I 
stammered, trying to find an excuse.

        Neil came over to me and put his arms around my waist, his doctor’s 
penetrating gaze saying that he didn’t believe me.  “Christy, something 
is wrong.  I think you’re coming down with something.”

        I attempted an assuring smile.  “I’m fine, dear.  Why do you keep 
asking me how I feel?”

        “Because I’m a doctor.  I know when my wife isn’t feeling well.”

        I kissed his cheek.  “Don’t worry about me; I’ve just been tired 
lately.”  I turned to the stove and brought the food to the able.  “Here 
you are, Neil.  A little something to welcome you home.”
 
        As he sat down to eat, I started upstairs.  

        “Aren’t you going to eat, lass?”

        The mere thought of food nearly caused my stomach to rebel.  I laid my 
hand on my stomach as I answered, “No, I’m not hungry, and I need to get 
to school early.  I haven’t graded papers in days.”

        That day turned out to be the worst day of teaching in my life.  By the 
time I got to school, my headache was raging.  Every tiny sound felt 
like a brick slamming against my sensitive eardrums, and the children 
were constantly talking.  I snapped at them, and I grew more and more 
irritable as the day wore on.  When Creed Allen asked innocently, near 
the end of the day, “Miz Christy, somethin’ a matter with ye t’day?” I 
burst into tears.  

        The children just stared at me, bewildered.  I was mortified.  Why did 
that make me cry?  But I couldn’t stop, either.  I sat down at my desk, 
weakly told the children they were dismissed, and laid my head down on 
the hard wood.  I closed my eyes, and when all the children were gone, I 
finally stood up, went over to the bucket of water in the back of the 
room and splashed my face.  Almost immediately it eased the throbbing in 
my head.  I should have thought of that sooner.  Then I gathered up my 
things and started home.

        Dinner, I had to start dinner.  In a daze, I opened cupboards and 
searched on shelves, trying to gather everything I needed to prepare the 
meal.  Where is Neil?  Probably checking on a patient, but he’ll be home 
soon.  My mind wandered from topic to topic, and I paid little attention 
to the cornbread I was mixing or the roast and potatoes I was seasoning 
or what a horrible combination roast and potatoes and cornbread was. 
 
        When everything was in the oven, I sat down in a chair to wait for 
Neil.  I could hardly keep my eyes open, but I didn’t want to go to 
sleep.  I was tired of sleeping so much.  But exhaustion soon overtook 
me, and I succumbed to sleep, until I was awakened by a horrible burning 
smell.  Dinner!

        I jumped up from my seat and ran to the oven, just as Neil opened the 
front door.  I stared in dismay at the blackened roast and potatoes and 
the cornbread that now resembled (and felt like) a large brick.  To make 
matters worse, Neil was standing behind me, looking on, laughing.

        “Do you think this is funny?” I snapped.

        “Well,” he began.  “It does kind of resemble something from Ruby Mae’s 
kitchen.”

        Normally, I would have thought Neil’s remark humorous, but not today.  
Furious, I grabbed the pots and pans of ruined food, ran to the door, 
and threw them out into the yard.  Then I whirled back around, straight 
into Neil.  I started crying again and apologized, quite distraught, as 
Neil held me, rubbing my back consolingly.

        “I don’t know what’s wrong with me, Neil,” I sobbed.  “I was cross at 
school today, and I started crying for no reason.  Then I lashed out at 
you!”

        “I was wrong to tease you, lass; I could see you’re not well.”

        “I’m not sick!” I said stubbornly.

        “That’s a poor cover-up, and I shouldn’t have let it go last night or 
this morning.  Be honest, lass; tell me how you’ve really been feeling 
lately.

        I explained to him about the nausea and dizziness and headaches, and 
Neil told me he wanted to examine me.  He took me back to his 
laboratory, and I lay on the bed there as he listened to my heart and 
lungs, looked at my throat, eyes, ears . . . 

        “Nausea, dizziness . . .” he murmured as he gently felt my abdomen, 
then put his stethoscope to it.  A slight smile crossed his face.  
“Really, Christy, you should have figured out what the cause of this was 
before I examined you.”

        “What?” I was confused.  “You’re the doctor, Neil.”

        “Yes, but you’re the woman.”

        “What’s wrong with me?”

        My husband was enjoying this.  “Can you still not figure it out?”

        I stared blankly, and he finally said, “You’re pregnant.”

        Shocked, I stammered, “P-pregnant?”

        “In other words, lass, you’re going to have a baby.”

        I could not believe it.  A baby!  “I can’t be pregnant!”

        Neil raised his eyebrows.  “And why not?  We are a happily married 
couple, Christy.  These things do happen.”

        I was so shocked, I could hardly utter a coherent word.  But Neil knew 
just what to do; he fixed me a nice, hot bath and cooked dinner himself.  
By the time I was soaking luxuriously in the tub, I was able to think 
clearly.  A baby!  I rubbed my abdomen thoughtfully as reality sunk in.  
I was really pregnant!  I was going to be a mother!

        After we had eaten, Neil went and sat in his big chair, then reached 
out for me.  He pulled me into his lap, and I sighed happily, reveling 
in the sensation of being cradled in my husband’s strong arms.  I 
nestled closer to him, and he rested his cheek against the top of my 
head.

        “Your hair is always so soft, lass.”

        I loved it when he called me “lass”!  It was the sweetest endearment, 
and whenever he said it, his brogue was so soft and gentle . . . I 
sighed again, so happy that Neil was my husband.  My thoughts turned 
again to the baby.

        “Neil,” I said, wrapping my arms around his neck and looking up at him.

        “What is it, sweetheart?” he asked lovingly.  (“Sweetheart” was 
wonderful, too!)

        “I know I didn’t say so before---I was too surprised . . .” my sentence 
trailed off for a minute.  “But I really am thrilled about the baby.”

        “So am I!” Neil cried sincerely. 

        “I’ve always dreamed of being a mother . . .”   Then I added, almost 
abruptly, “Do you remember last winter when you were about to operate on 
Wanda Ann Beck’s eyes and she was so scared?”

        “Yes, I do,” Neil answered, and from his questioning tone I could tell 
he didn’t know where I was going with my question. 

        I continued, shyly, “You picked her up and held her in your lap and 
calmed her.  I watched how gentle you were with her and how tenderly you 
spoke, and I thought that you would be a good father.  Ever since then I 
wanted to be your wife and give you a child---lots of children.”

        Neil smiled, “And now you’re my wife, and in about eight months you’ll 
give me a child.  I’m a lucky man.”

        “Not as lucky as me.

        “And why are you so lucky, Mrs. MacNeill?”

        I sat up straight, for once at eye-level with my husband, suddenly 
feeling flirtatious.  “Because I’m married to a doctor.”

        “A doctor?”

        “Yes, a wonderful one,” I said.  

        “Oh, really?”

        I nodded and continued.  “His name is Neil MacNeill.”   I reached up 
and stroked his hair.  “He’s got curly red hair, and he’s tall and 
strong . . .”

        “Tall and strong?”

        “And handsome.”  I traced Neil’s cheek with my finger.  “Ruggedly 
handsome---very manly.  He has hazel eyes that see everything, and then 
there’s his nose, and his mouth . . .”

        “His mouth?”

        “I love his smile, and his accent, but the best part is . . .”  I 
smiled demurely.  “His kisses are great.”

        “Like this?” he asked, dropping a deep kiss onto my lips.

        In the midst of the romantic moment, I slowly became aware of a 
pounding.  Unwillingly, Neil and I pulled our lips apart, just as the 
door swung open.  It was Miss Alice, and when she beheld us, still 
holding each other, she raised her eyebrows, apparently a bit amused.

        “So this is what you two are up to!  I knocked and knocked, but nobody 
answered.  I was afraid something might be wrong, so I came on in.”

        I was slightly embarrassed about being caught by Miss Alice while 
sitting in my husband’s lap, and Neil reluctantly relinquished his hold 
on me as I rose and asked, “Is everything all right at the mission?”

        “I take it there’s not an emergency,as you’re quite calm, Alice,” Neil 
added, motioning to a chair.  “Come have a seat and talk with us.”

        Miss Alice sat down on the sofa, and I leaned on the arm of Neil’s 
chair.  “Actually,” she said, “I came to see how Christy was.  Some of 
the children---and David, too---have mentioned to me that you haven’t 
been well.”  Grey eyes twinkling, she added, “Although, at this moment, 
I would say you look very well.”

        “I’ve been feeling tired and . . .” Suddenly I burst out, “Miss Alice, 
I’m pregnant!”

        The Quaker lady beamed, coming over to Neil and me and grasping our 
hands.  “This is, indeed, good news!  I am very happy that the Lord has 
chosen to bless thee with such a precious gift!  I cannot think of two 
more deserving people or two better parents!”

        “We’re very excited, too!” Neil said proudly.

        The three of us talked for a a few minutes, and before she left, Miss 
Alice asked what I was going to do about school.

        “I’m going to teach as long as I can,” I assured her.  “Of course, I’ve 
been a little sick lately . . .”

        Miss Alice smiled empathetically.  “I remember what it’s like.  Why 
don’t you just teach in the afternoons until you are over your ‘morning 
sickness’?  It would be much easier for you, and I’m sure Cecile and 
David won’t mind covering those classes for you.”

        I nodded, and she then rose and announced that she needed to be heading 
home.  Neil and I were about to get up and accompany her outside, but 
Miss Alice shook her head and smiled.  “I think you were in the middle 
of something you’d like to resume, and I won’t delay you any longer.”  
And with that she left.

        Alone once more, I quickly resumed my coquettish tone, “Where was I?” I 
asked, leaning over Neil, who quickly stood and caught me up in his 
arms, all in one motion.

        “I believe you were just about finished, lass,” he gave a low, husky 
laugh and nuzzled my neck.  “It’s my turn to talk about a teacher.”
        “A teacher?”

        “Yes,” Neil laughed again, starting up the stairs.  “A wonderful 
one...”
*********************************************************************
Chapter:  Twenty-seven
**********************************************************************

"The Joy of the Children", Chapter Twenty-seven:

THE NEXT FEW WEEKS were draining, for both my body and my emotional 
state had a difficult time adjusting to my pregnancy.  I would never 
have made it through those weeks if it had not been for the constant 
love and support of Neil.  The very first morning after our discovery, I 
awoke to his voice.

        “Christy, love, wake up.”

        Reluctantly, I opened my eyes and found that I was still tired.  Why 
did it seem like I never got enough rest?  

        “Good morning, lass,” Neil said sweetly.  “I brought you some 
breakfast.”

        I groaned involuntarily.  “Oh, Neil, I’m sick . . .”

        “I thought you would be.  But really, Christy, it might help you to 
feel better if you eat something.”

        “You didn’t have to cook breakfast for me,” I said, warmed by his 
attentiveness.

        “Don’t mention it, lass. Toast isn’t that much trouble.”

        Neil helped me to sit up in bed, and I ate a few bites of the toast, 
when suddenly I couldn’t stand it any longer.  

        “Neil,” I gasped, “move the tray.” 

        The next thing I knew, I was outside, violently sick---much worse than 
after my first visit at the O’Teales’.  Oh, if only the vomiting would 
stop!  It hurt so badly I cried.  

        All the time I gagged and wretched, Neil stood behind me and supported 
my heaving body, rubbing my neck, whispering soothing words.  At last, 
when there was nothing left to come and I was too weak and shaky to 
stand, Neil gently took me up in his arms and carried me back upstairs 
to our bedroom and tucked the quilts around me.   He sponged my face 
with a cool, wet cloth; he sat on the edge of the bed and stroked my 
hair and continued to comfort me until I drifted off to sleep once more.

        Afternoon sun dimly filtered through the closed curtains when I finally 
awoke.  Slowly, I rose from the bed, relieved that I no longer felt 
nauseated.  I freshened up, dressed, then went downstairs and found Neil 
reading.

        “I was just about to come check on you,” he said, looking up at me.  
“How do you feel?”

        “Better,” I replied, with a glance at the clock---two o’clock.  “I 
suppose I won’t be going to school today.”

        “Don’t worry about it,” said Neil.  “But I think you should not go at 
all until all this is past.”

        “Neil,” I protested.  “I am a teacher; I can’t stay home just because 
I’m a little---”

        My husband came over to me, sighing heavily.  “Don’t argue with me, 
Christy.  Alice came by this morning, and she feels it would be best, 
also.”

        I turned away defiantly.  “Why?  I’m not sick, Neil; only pregnant.  
That’s not an excuse for shirking my duty.”

        “Christy,” Neil cried, agitation filling his voice, “no one is accusing 
you of shirking.  You must take care of yourself, especially during the 
early stages of your pregnancy.  It’s essential for the baby’s health as 
well as yours.  Trust me on this, please.”  His tone softened, and he 
placed his hands on my shoulders.  “You should be able to go back in a 
week or two, I promise.”

        Finally I relented; Neil was right, and I could not have changed his 
mind even if he was wrong.  “All right, Neil.  But only until this is 
past.”
        
        As the week wore on, each morning brought the same horrible waves of 
nausea that had plagued me for days.  I slept fitfully at night, and I 
was fretful during the day.  I wanted to be teaching; it was too quiet 
at home; every little thing got on my nerves; I didn’t want to clean or 
cook; I wasn’t handling this well.

        It seemed as if there was always a woman pregnant in the Cove, yet they 
all managed to do even more work than ever and take care of their other 
children.  Obviously, they didn’t have nearly as much trouble being 
pregnant as I was.  Why was I so sick?  Why didn’t I feel like doing 
anything?  My feelings and questions gave way to fear and doubt, and one 
night, while Neil was asleep, I buried my face in my pillow and wept.

        “Christy, what is it?” Neil said through a yawn as he sat up.  “Why are 
you crying, lass?”

        “Nothing,” I sobbed.  “It’s nothing, Neil; I’m sorry I woke you.”

        “You wouldn’t be crying over nothing,” he said gently, rubbing my back.  
“Won’t you tell me?”

        I rolled over onto my back and gazed up at him through tear-filled 
eyes.  “You’ll laugh.”

        “Christy,” Neil said, taking my hand.  “You know I would never laugh at 
something that truly upset you.”

        I sniffed as he wiped away my tears.  “I’m going to be a horrible 
mother, Neil.”

        Neil’s sandy brows went up in surprise.  “What makes you say that, 
sweetheart?”

        The tears came again.  “I can’t even handle being pregnant!” I wailed.  
“I shouldn’t be like this.”

        “Like what?”

        I flailed my arm in frustration.  “So sick and irritable and . . .”
        Neil silenced me with a kiss and cradled me to him.  “Those are all 
perfectly normal things for pregnant women to experience, Christy.  
They’ll not reflect what kind of mother you’ll be.”  He leaned over to 
look me in the eye and added, smiling, “I know you’ll be a wonderful 
mother.”

        My husband’s words touched me but brought little comfort.  

        “How can you think that, Neil?  I---I---”

        “What?”

        Embarrassed, I told him, “I didn’t---Mother never told me---it would be 
like this.  She’s so prudish about, well, marriage and babies---it’s a 
wonder I knew anything about---the facts of life before we were married. 
. .”

        “You would have known even less had you not attended Ruby Mae’s 
wedding, if my memory serves me.”

        I had to laugh, and that relieved my tension a little.  Neil, however, 
had kept his word and not laughed. I still felt ridiculous, but it was 
too late to stop my explanation.   

        “I’m just scared because I don’t know anything about pregnancy and 
childbirth and what to expect.”  I looked up at Neil.  “Do you think I’m 
stupid?  I feel very stupid.”

        “No, I don’t,” he said sincerely, brushing a few stray hairs out of my 
face.  “But it’s a good thing you married a doctor, isn’t it?”    

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

Chapter:  Twenty-eight
Summary:  All's well in Cutter Gap?  Maybe not...
********************************************************************

"The Joy of the Children", Chapter Twenty-eight

AFTER about two weeks, I was feeling almost normal and was able to 
teach.   When I walked into the schoolyard my first morning back, I was 
greeted with Sam Houston and Little Burl throwing themselves 
affectionately at me.

        “Howdy, Teacher !”  Little Burl cried.  “Shorely did miss ye!”

        “Well, I missed you, too, boys!”

        Neil, lingering about to make certain I was all right, hovered over me 
protectively.  “Boys, you mustn’t be so rough with Mrs. MacNeill.”

        “Neil, it’s all right; they weren’t hurting me,” I assured my anxious 
husband.        

        “We’s just huggin’ her, Doc,” Sam Houston said.  “Always done hit 
afore.”

        Trying to preserve their tender feelings, I explained, “Dr. MacNeill is 
just saying that you have to be careful not to accidentally be too 
rough.”  I knelt down so I was at eye-level with the two boys.  “You 
see, I’m going to have a baby.”  I said that, then thought, Mother would 
die if she heard me tell someone---a little child, no less---that I was 
going to have a baby!  She had scolded me dreadfully for telephoning her 
and saying, “Hello, Mother, this is Christy.  I’m pregnant!”

        “Lord, Miz Christy, what’d ye go’n do a derned thing like that fer?” 
asked Sam Houston, bewildered.

        This was a question I had not a clue how to answer.  “Neil?”

        Neil gave a hearty laugh and tousled the boy’s hair.  “The same reason 
your momma has had all those babies.”

        “Don’t know why she done hit, neither,” Sam Houston replied, seriously.  
“All they do is eat, sleep, cry, an’ make a mess.  Can’t reckon why my 
paw puts up with sech a thing.”

        “All right, boys, into the classroom,” I said, trying not to laugh at 
this speech.  When they were out of earshot, Neil and I both laughed 
until it hurt.

        “Why did you tell him that, Neil?” I asked, still giggling.

        “What, lass, did you want me to tell him that it just sort of 
happened?”

        That started us laughing helplessly again, but finally I said, “I have 
to go in now, dear.”

        “All right, then,” Neil replied, kissing me.  “Be careful today, and 
I’ll come for you when it’s time to go.”

        
        When school was out that afternoon, I found Neil out front, talking 
with Bird’s Eye.  I caught the end of their conversation---“Bad 
business,” the latter was saying, with a shake of his head.

        “Keep your eyes open,” Neil replied, “and I’ll do the same.”

        Seeing me for the first time, Bird’s Eye tipped his hat and greeted me.  
“Afternoon, ma’am.”

        “Bird’s Eye,” I returned.  “Tell Opal I said hello.”

        “The man nodded and walked away.

        Worry pervaded Neil’s expression as he put his arm around me and 
silently led me to where Charlie was tethered.

        “Neil, what is it?  What were you and Bird’s Eye talking about?”

        He did not answer me immediately.  “Neil,” I persisted.  “Please tell 
me.”

        “Were the O’Teale children in school today?”

        “Yes,” I answered, thinking back to when Dan and Cecile had first come 
to the Cove.  Swannie O’Teale was one of the people who had kept her 
children out of school.

        “Nathan wouldn’t like hit one bit,” she had said.  “If’n he were t’ 
find out thar were a colored woman teachin’ our young’uns, he’d be mad 
fit t’ kill.”

        After a time I was able to persuade Swannie that since nobody had seen 
Nathan since he and Bird’s Eye had been arrested for shooting Tom McHone 
a year-and-a-half ago, it was highly unlikely that he would come back 
and find out there was a black teacher.

        “Yes, all the O’Teales were here today, Neil,” I repeated.  “Why?”

        “Nathan’s back.”

        I gasped, and Neil added grimly, “Moonshining---with Ault Allen.”

        As we rode home, Neil told me about his conversation with Bird’s Eye.

        “Bird’s Eye was at his cabin, when Ault knocked on the door and said he 
needed to talk to him.  They went outside, where Nathan was waiting.  To 
make a long story short, they asked Bird’s Eye to go into the still 
business with them again.  Then Ault started talking about how it was 
the only way to get money since the harvest failed---because of the 
‘dark man’.”

        “Ault is blaming the failed harvest on Daniel Scott?” I asked in 
disbelief.

        “Yes.”

        “He’s really that superstitious?”

        “Maybe,” Neil replied, “but I suspect it’s more out of spite and 
revenge.  You know he hasn’t spoken to me since I hit him that Sunday, 
and he hasn’t exactly been friendly to David or Alice, either.  He’s 
angry with the mission because he’s not very popular with most of the 
Cove people any more.”

        “So what did Bird’s Eye do?”

        Neil grinned.  “He said, ‘Dan Scott’s Gods’s man, and I won’t be takin’ 
no part in th’ devil’s work.’ ”

        “Good for Bird’s Eye!” I cried.  “But he’ll have enemies now.”

        “I think it’s Dan and Cecile we need to worry about.”

        I was alarmed.  “Should we go back to the mission and warn them?”

        Neil shook his head.  “Right now, I want to get you home.”

        “But, Neil, what if something happens to them?”

        “I have no doubt that Bird’s Eye, Jeb, and Bob Allen are already 
keeping an eye on things at the mission.  And you’re forgetting what a 
good shot Alice is.”

        My mind was easy for a while, but that night, there was a wild pounding 
on the door.  Neil staggered out of bed, pulling on his trousers, and I 
followed close behind him.  This was not a medical call; I knew it 
wasn’t.

        Neil’s big frame filled the doorway, but I peered around him and saw 
Wraight Holt.

        “Paw sent me t’ fetch ye soon as we heared,” the boy panted.  “Th’ 
mission---hit’s on fire.”

        I gasped, as Neil moved to get his medical bags.  “I’m on my way.”

        “Neil, I’m going with you,” I said. 

        “No, you’re not,” he argued, throwing on his coat.  “You’ll stay right 
here until I return.”

        I glared at him in indignation.  “I’m sorry, Neil, but you may need all 
the help you can get tonight.  And if you don’t take me with you, I’ll 
go by myself.”

        Hazel eyes flashed for a moment, then he gave a small chuckle.  “All 
right.  Be dressed by the time I’ve finished saddling Charlie.”

        I ran upstairs, threw on some clothes, and was outside before Neil had 
finished saddling Charlie.

        “Where’s Wraight?” I asked, remembering the boy.  

        “Gone already,” Neil said.  “You know how it is out here---once the 
message is delivered, the messenger is off  to spread the news to 
others.”

        He swung up on Charlie, pulled me up, then spurred the horse onward to 
the mission.

        
BY THE TIME Neil and I arrived at the mission, most of the Cove was 
there, and the men had the fire under control.  However, it had been a 
big fire, and the mission house now resembled only the skeleton of a 
building, a blackened, smoldering heap of rubble. 
 
        Seemingly forgetting I was with him, Neil leapt off Charlie’s back and 
ran across the yard, where Dan Scott knelt by a body, the face of which 
was blackened with soot.  Upon approaching it, I could tell it was Ault 
Allen.

        “Is he dead?” I asked.

        “Unconscious,” Neil replied tersely, his stethoscope pressed to Ault’s 
chest.  “Smoke inhalation.”  Then he made a dreadful face and exclaimed, 
“He reeks of whisky---and bad moonshine, at that.  He’s been tilting the 
jug non-stop for days, I imagine.  It’s a wonder he’s still alive.”

        “Well,” said Dan, “He stumbled out of the house and collapsed not too 
long before you arrived.  And I’ll wager it was the moonshine---not the 
smoke---that made him pass out.”

        “Aye,” replied Neil.  “Is there anyone else inside?”

        “We got all the children out, and most of them are with their parents.  
But I haven’t seen Nathan.”

        “Stay with Ault in case he comes to,” Neil ordered his assistant as he 
stood and ran to the mission house.  About ten minutes later, Neil and 
David came out of the mission house, coughing and covered in ash and 
soot, carrying a filthy bundle.  I ran over to them.

        “Nathan?” I asked as they laid the bundle on the ground. 
 
        Neil nodded grimly.  “Found him underneath one of the porch beams.  
Looked as if he was running to get out, when it collapsed on him.  His 
left leg’s pretty mangled.”  

        Just about then, Dan and Cecile came over to us as Neil was saying, 
“His moonshine jug was in his hand when we found him.  Couldn’t die 
without nursing his liquor.”  With a note of bitterness and a glance 
over at the still insensible Ault, he added, “Inebriated fools!  Dan, 
how did this happen?”

        Cecile spoke up.  “Daniel was out at the barn taking care of the 
horses, while I was putting the children to bed.  I went downstairs to 
fix a pot of tea, when Ault and Nathan broke through the side door, 
drinking and cursing.  When they saw me, they began shrieking 
obscenities and shoving me around.   Nathan accused me of ‘witching’ 
Mountie and the rest of his family and pulled out a shotgun and fired at 
the ceiling.  He said, ‘If ye don’t give me my young’uns and go back t’ 
where ye cum from, I’s goin’ t’ blow yer black head clean off.’ ”

        “I heard the commotion about that time,” Dan said, putting a protective 
arm around his wife, anger rising in his voice, “and ran inside with my 
rifle.  Furious doesn’t go far enough to explain what I felt when I saw 
those two terrorizin’ my wife.  I screamed at them---aimed my rifle and 
said I shoot the first one to say another word to her.  Nathan turned 
around and fired off a shot at me, but he was too drunk to coming close 
to hitting me.  Ault flew into a rage and hurled an end table at me.  
There was an oil lamp on top of it, and it fell off and broke, settin’ 
the curtains on fire.  Then Ault pitched his jug at the flames, and I 
have never in my life seen a fire blaze up so quickly; the room was 
completely engulfed in just a few minutes.

        “In all the confusion,  Cecile and I managed to get upstairs and take 
the children out the back way.  Everything else is just a blur.  
Sometime, all the neighbors arrived and helped put the fire out, but I’m 
a bit foggy on the details.”

        “I’m just glad none of the children was hurt,” said Miss Alice, who 
came over with Jeb and Bird’s Eye.  “Or either of thee,” she added, 
nodding to Dan and Cecile.

        “God was certainly watching over us,” Cecile added softly, and a 
silent, collective prayer of thanks went up from our little group.
      
        “But the mission,” I sighed, looking around.  “What will we do?”

        “The children will stay with their families, and Ida, Dan, and Cecile 
can stay at my cabin until we have rebuilt the mission house,” Miss 
Alice replied resolutely.  “That is what we can do, what we must do.”

        “This happened because of us,” Dan said in a low voice.  “Cecile and I 
never should have come here; we just hinder your work in the Cove.”

        “Nonsense,” Miss Alice declared.  “Daniel Scott, I am surprised that 
you would say such a thing.  As I recall, you once said that you knew 
this was where God wanted thee.”

        “Maybe I was wrong,” the man stated.  “People have left the school and 
the church because of us, and now they’ve burned down the mission house 
. . .”

        Miss Alice gazed upward and quoted, “ ‘My brethren, count it all joy 
when ye fall into diverse temptations, knowing this, that the trying of 
your faith worketh patience.  But let patience have her perfect work, 
that ye may be perfect and entire, wanting nothing.’”  She smiled.  “A 
commonly quoted verse, I know, but it is so true.  God never promised us 
that His work would be smooth sailing, did he.  Do not loose heart, Dan.  
Take joy in the fact that the Lord will provide and grow you up through 
this seemingly bleak situation.”

        Before anyone could reply, Swannie O’Teale, followed by five ragged 
children, staggered into the mission yard, a wild, unearthly look about 
her.

        “Whar’s my Nathan at?”

        Oh God, I thought, my body growing numb and cold.  She doesn’t have a 
clue.  How on earth will  we tell her?  I didn’t know.   All I could do 
was stare and lean on Neil for support as I waited for someone to give 
Swannie O’Teale the fateful answer.

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

Chapter:  Twenty-nine   
Summary:  O'Teale crisis!
*********************************************************************


"The Joy of the Children", Chapter Twenty-nine:

“WHAR’S NATHAN AT?” Swannie repeated, quite distraught.  “Saw th’ fire 
from out at my place, an’ I knowed Nathan was a-headed this a-way.  Whar 
he be at?”

        As Swannie approached, I noticed that her left eye was black and blue, 
swollen shut.  There was a deep gash on her forehead, too, and blood 
flowed freely down her face. 
 
        “Swannie, you’re bleeding,” I said, reaching out for her.

        The woman shied away from me and retorted, “Hit don’t matter none.  
All’s I’m a-wantin’ t’ know’s whar my Nathan’s at.”

        Neil stepped forward and took from his bag a clean rag.  “Let me have a 
look at that cut, Swannie; it looks pretty deep . . .”

        “No!”  she shrieked.  “Ye won’t be tetchin’ me none!  Tell me whar my 
Nathan’s at right now!”

        “He’s dead, Swannie,” Neil said plainly, though his tone was not 
unkind.  “He was trapped in the mission house when it caught on fire.” 
 
        At that moment, Swannie noticed the bundle laying on the ground, and 
her face went grey.  Her lifeless eyes looked more lifeless and her 
sagging, sunken cheeks more sagged and sunken than ever.  She knelt down 
and ran her rough hands over the sheet-wrapped body.  “Hit’s all my 
doin’,” she said in a low voice.  “If’n I’d just done like he said, he’d 
still be here.”

        “Swannie,” I said, kneeling down beside her.  “This is not your fault 
at all.”

        “Hit is,” she insisted, two streams of tears forging through the dirt 
and grime on her face. “Shorely hit is.  Nathan telled me not t’ have 
nothin’ t’ do wi’ the’ mission nor nobody, but I didn’t pay no heed t’ 
him.  He cum here lookin’ fer Mountie, an’ now he’s done got hisself 
kilt.”

        I didn’t know what to say.  Swannie had gone against her husband’s 
wishes, but it certainly wasn’t her fault he was killed in the fire.  
But how could I make her see otherwise?  Helplessly, I watched her weep 
for a minute or two.  Then she sat up and said, “Wall, hit’s th’ Lord’s 
will fer me t’ be a widder.  If’n I cain’t be no submissive wife, then I 
guess He don’t see fit fer me t’ be no wife a-tall.”

        I was shocked by this morbid approach to her husband’s death.  I knew I 
should have said something, but I was too confused to try to convince 
her otherwise.

        “Swannie,” Neil said, “you really need to let me have a look at that 
cut.”

        The woman nodded, and Neil directed her to Miss Alice’s cabin.  Cecile 
and I followed with the children.  Their faces were grave, but Smith and 
Orter Ball did not exactly look sorrowful.  

        “Orter,” I said, touching the boy’s arm.  “I’m very sorry about your 
father.”

        “Thank ye, Miz Christy,” he replied.  “But hit ain’t too bad.  He was 
always a-hurtin’ Maw.  Like that gash on ’er head.  He done that t’night 
when he shoved her into the mantle.”

        My eyes went wide, even though I had from the beginning suspected that 
Nathan O’Teale abused his family.  

        “He done shot Wilmer clean through th’ head, too, Miz Christy,” Orter 
continued.  “Jest cain’t see bein’ sorry t’ sech a pison mean feller 
like my paw go.”

        “Warn’t never home exceptin’ t’ drink an’ sware an’ hit,” Smith added 
darkly.

        Again, I was speechless.  What could I say to children who lost an 
abusive father who only inflicted misery upon them?  Surely, his death 
was their release.  Of course the children would feel this way;  it was 
only right.

        But as I tucked the O’Teale children into bed at Miss Alice’s cabin, I 
saw tears run down Orter Ball’s face.           “Teacher,” he sobbed, “Isaak 
McHone an’ Festus Allen an’ all them other fellers, how cum they’s got 
th’ good kind o’ paw?  Thar paws don’t drink ’shine, an’ they don’t hit 
thar maws.  Ever’ night I’s done asked God t’ make Paw like other paws, 
but He never did nothin’ ’bout hit.”  Huge tears welled up in his eyes.  
“Teacher, all I want’s a paw.  Reckon I’ll ever git one?”

        I caught Orter up in a fierce hug, crying with him.  I silently prayed 
for the boy.  Oh God, this boy is so starved for love.  Please, God, 
give him human love, but more than that, show him Your love.

        “Orter,” I said, smoothing back his hair and wiping away his tears, “I 
can’t promise you that you’ll ever have a father, but I can promise you 
that whenever you close your eyes and say a prayer, God is right there 
with you, and he wants you to love Him like a father.  I can’t think of 
anyone who would be a more perfect father, can you?  Not even Bob Allen 
or Tom McHone or Bird’s Eye Taylor.”  

        The boy appeared to think something of this.  “Never thawt much on 
that, Teacher.  I reckon I’ll give hit a try.”          I smiled and patted 
Orter’s back.  “I think you should.”  Then I added, “And Orter, anytime 
you feel like you need a paw you can see and touch, you just come to Dr. 
MacNeill’s cabin, and he’ll be your paw.”



NEIL HAD JUST FINISHED suturing Swannie’s gashed forehead and was 
wrapping it in a clean bandage when I entered Miss Alice’s living room.

        “Christy,” my husband asked softly, “will you stay here with Swannie?  
I need to check on Ault and ask someone to tend to Wilmer.”

        I nodded and sat down in a nearby chair and looked Swannie in the eye.  

        “Orter told me what happened tonight,” I said frankly, though I was 
feeling a great deal of emotion.  “Swannie, did Nathan hurt you often?”

        “Only when he was home, which warn’t much,” she replied.  “An’ only 
when he was a-drunk, which whar.  But he never did nothin’ I didn’t 
deserve.  I ain’t pretty, an’ I ain’t much of a cook or a housekeeper.  
I reckon that’s why Nathan was gone so much.  I tried t’ do better so’s 
he’d be pleased whenever he cum home, but I ain’t smart, so hit never 
was good enough fer him.  But I deserved hit.  I jest warn’t no good 
wife.”

        I turned away from Swannie so that she would not see I was crying.  The 
poor, wretched soul!  No wonder the children seemed to carry burdens too 
great for such little ones.  Their home was so broken and battered . . . 
Swannie was such a miserable creature, unloved, with no self-respect or 
worth . . .

        “Swannie O’Teale, don’t you ever believe for one moment that you were a 
bad wife to Nathan,” came a masculine voice:  David.  “You loved your 
husband, and that’s why you tried so hard to please him.  You love your 
children, and that’s why you sent them to school, let Mountie board at 
the mission, and came to church on Sundays.  Your spirit and your heart 
are steadfast, and that is why you were able to continue to live even 
when your husband was gone.”

        I watched as David knelt down in front of Swannie and took both her 
hands.  “You say you’re not pretty, but Swannie, when I look at you, I 
see a beautiful soul that shines through everything else.  You were a 
good wife.  You never deserved to be hurt.  Swannie, you deserved to be 
loved and appreciated by Nathan.  He had a good wife, Swannie, if Nathan 
didn’t see that you were a good wife, then he didn’t deserve you.”
        Swannie didn’t even seem to hear David’s words, but she burst into 
tears.  “Rev’rend, Nathan done kilt my boy, my Wilmer!  It didn’t matter 
none t’ me if’n he hurt me, so long as he didn’t do no harm t’ my 
babies.  But he kilt my Wilmer, my poor boy!”  This was the first real 
emotion Swannie had shown, but she abruptly said, “Wall, thar ain’t 
nothin’ I kin do.  Hit’s all th’ Lord’s will, an’ I cain’t be one t’ 
question His will, cain I?”

        I wanted to scream.  Could she not see that it was possible for sinful 
man to act outside of God’s will?  It was not God’s will for Swannie’s 
husband to be abusive, nor was it His will that her half-witted son be 
killed.  But that horrible view of God’s sovereignty was all that 
Swannie had, and somehow it held her together.  It was as if she was 
totally devoid of love, so she couldn’t imagine that God’s will could be 
anything but what happened in her life.

        “Swannie---” David began, but the woman cut him off.

        “If’n ye don’t mind, Rev’rend, I’d be much obleeged t’ ye if’n ye could 
bring Nathan t’ my place.  I’m a-goin’ t’ fetch th’ young’uns, an’ we’ll 
be goin’ back thar t’ keep vigil fer th’ dead.”

        “I---of course, Swannie,” David said, and he went outside to do her 
bidding.

        I, too, fled the cabin, no longer able to see or listen to Swannie.  As 
I ran, tears blurred my vision, but I could see Neil, just coming out of 
David’s bunkhouse.  

        “Ault’s going to stay here tonight, with Dan and David, when he gets 
back from the O’Teales’,” he said when I had reached him.  

        I was mildly alarmed by this news, and Neil added, “It’ll be all right, 
Christy.  Ault will probably be out cold for hours, he’s so drunk, and 
if he does wake up, he’ll have quite a hangover.”

        Suddenly I felt very weak, and I leaned against Neil.

        Concern written on his face, he supported me and said, “I need to get 
you home.”

        “Aren’t you needed here?”

        “Not anymore,” Neil replied, leading me to Charlie.  “This whole 
situation was not nearly as bad as it could have been.”

        After Neil had mounted the horse he leaned over and hoisted me up in 
front of him on the saddle.  “I’m not going to risk you riding in back 
of me and falling off; you look as though you would.  I shouldn’t have 
let you come.”          “I’m fine, Neil,” I assured him wearily.  But until I 
fell asleep that night, I could not stop thinking about Swannie and her 
sad, loveless existence.  


**********************************************************************
Chapter: Thirty
Summary:  The O'Teale/Ault Allen drama continues.
**********************************************************************


"The Joy of the Children", Chapter Thirty:

SOMEONE WAS POUNDING on the cabin door.  Unwillingly, I opened my eyes 
as Neil flung back the covers and got out of bed.  As he quickly put on 
his robe, he stewed, “Twice in one night. . . . Only been home a few 
hours.”

        A few minutes later, I found him downstairs, talking to Miss Alice.  

        “We’ve got search parties out there right now,” the latter was saying.
        Hanging on to my husband’s arm, I asked, “Neil, what---”

        “Ault apparently ‘came to’ and sneaked out of David’s bunkhouse 
sometime during the night,” Neil informed me, heaving a great sigh.  His 
face was a study, and he ran his fingers through his hair in 
frustration.  “Good Lord, but this would end!”

        Miss Alice gazed at Neil unflinchingly.  “It could be worse, Neil.  We 
can be grateful to God that Bird’s-Eye Taylor is no longer involved in 
the moonshining and feuding.”

        “Ault supposedly had stopped feuding,” Neil retorted cynically.  “Of 
course you remember when Bird’s Eye came to church that first time, Ault 
said he would stop feuding for the sake of his children.  We’ve seen how 
sincere Ault is now, haven’t we Alice?  We should have known from the 
beginning that all the Cove’s troubles weren’t over.”

        “Yes, Neil, we should have,” said Miss Alice calmly.  “But I will not 
listen to thy contemptuous talk.  I suggest that you get on your knees 
and pray---for Ault and for all of Cutter Gap.”

        Neil’s face crimsoned with shame.  “I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean those 
things I said.  But it’s so frustrating to watch this feuding  happen 
over and over!  You’d think people would learn . . .”

        I watched my husband struggle within himself over the feuding.  He had 
spent so much of his life watching his friends’ lives being torn apart 
by the senseless disputes and working, sometimes in vain, to bring 
physical healing to those unfortunate souls whom the merciless bullets 
had found. 
 
        His eyes flashed for a moment, then he said, “I’ll go out and look for 
him.”  Neil started up the stairs, then turned and inquired, “Alice, 
will you stay with Christy until I get back?  I’m not leaving her out 
here by herself with Ault on the loose.”

        “Of course,” she replied.

        When he had dressed, Neil hurried down the stairs and threw some food 
in his saddlebags, then grabbled his rifle off the rack above the door.   
As he started out the door, I clung fiercely to him.  

        “Please be careful, Neil,” I begged.  “If anything happened to you, I’d 
die.”

        Dropping his things, he caught me in his powerful embrace, crushing me 
to him.  “I will come back to you, lass, I promise you I will.”

        “All in one piece?”

        “All in one piece.”

        “Without a scratch?”

        Neil’s eyes smiled as he gazed down at me.  “Not a scratch, love.”  

        I rose up on my toes as he lowered his head kissed my lips.  The kiss 
conveyed more to me than words ever could that Neil loved me and longed 
to stay with me; it was an avowal that all would be well and he would 
come back to me safe and sound.

        However comforted I was, it was with great reluctance that I drew back 
from Neil and watched him walk out the door.  What if---what if he was 
wrong?  No, I would not let myself think it.

        “We shall keep thee in our prayers, Neil,” Miss Alice called as he 
mounted Charlie.

        Neil nodded, and with a final assuring glance at me, he galloped out of 
sight.


AFTER Miss Alice and I prayed together for Ault and for all the men who 
were searching for him, my friend told me I should go back to bed.

        “You must try to get some more rest, Christy,” she said.  “With all you 
have experienced from your pregnancy the past few weeks, the last thing 
you need is to wear yourself out.  These last twelve hours have been 
trying, to say the least.  And obviously, with all the trouble, we have 
decided to cancel school for today.”

        I obeyed Miss Alice, and though I thought I would not be able to sleep, 
my weary body conquered me.  When I awoke, I was relieved to have slept; 
it had made some of the time go by quickly.  After I dressed and went 
downstairs, Miss Alice and I had breakfast, then shared our morning 
devotions.  

        “You know, Miss Alice,” I said after our time in the Scriptures, “I’m 
glad there’s God.  I cannot even imagine trying to endure situations 
like these by myself.  And isn’t it wonderful how that unexplainable joy 
wells up in your soul after you have spent  time with God?”

        A beautiful smile spread across the Quaker lady’s face.  “Christy, I do 
not believe that I have ever heard anything so eloquent as that!  You 
expressed your heart in the simple, child-like way in which I long to 
express myself!”

        Neither of us said anything else for several minutes, but at last I 
said, “Well, since I can’t be teaching today, I might as well do 
something useful.”

        “Such as?”

        I fetched a basket of clothes, then brought it back over to the chair 
in which I had been sitting.  “Mending.  I haven’t tended to it lately, 
as you can see from the quantity of clothes in this basket.  Poor Neil 
hardly has a shirt that isn’t missing a button.”

        Mid-morning sunlight poured through the windows of the cabin by the 
time Miss Alice and I finished mending.  We ironed, too, and caught up 
on various other household tasks I had neglected for a while. 
 
        “Thanks for helping me with all the housework,” I said to Miss Alice 
after we had a light lunch.  “I’m some kind of wife, allowing all of 
this to go undone just because I find out I’m pregnant.”

        My friend laughed.  “I doubt Neil even noticed.  Don’t forget, he’s not 
used to it getting done at all, or at least not very often.”

        I laughed, too, then took out some knitting.  Though I hated to admit 
it, I was keeping busy mainly for the sake of keeping my mind off of 
what Neil was out doing.  If my hands and mind were busy, I would not 
worry.  

        “Booties?” Miss Alice asked after I had been knitting for a few 
minutes.

        “Yes,” I said, and as I looked at my work, I thought of the tiny feet 
that would, before too long, fill them; I couldn’t help but smile.  
“Last night I completely forgot I was pregnant, but then I remembered 
this morning.  I’m so excited, Miss Alice!”

        “And so you should be,” she replied.

        “I can’t wait to touch my baby’s soft skin and kiss his fat little 
cheeks and hold his little hands . . . Sometimes I get the most 
wonderful feeling when I think about holding my baby and nursing him and 
rocking him to sleep . . .”

        “He, Christy?” Miss Alice asked, raising her eyebrows in amusement. 
“Has your doctor husband figured out some method of determining your 
child’s gender?”

        I blushed a little.  “I hope it’s a boy.  I want to give Neil a son.”  
For a moment I visualized the future.  “Can’t you just see Neil playing 
with a little boy, letting him tag along after him, taking him fishing?  
He’s so strong and sometimes a bit domineering, but he’s also so gentle 
and sweet . . .”

        “Thy husband will be a wonderful father,” agreed Miss Alice.
  
        About that time I glanced up from my work and peered out the window, to 
see David riding up into the yard.  A surge of panic shot through me, 
and I leaped from my chair and ran to the door.

        “Is---is Neil---” I stammered as David hopped down from Prince.

        “Neil is fine, Christy,” he said.  “But we found Ault out near Crumb 
Hollow, badly mangled.”

        “Mangled?” Miss Alice repeated.  “What do you mean?”

        “Just that,” said David.  “Neil’s not sure how it happened, but it 
looks like an animal got him.”

        “Dear God,” I murmured.

        “Where is Ault now?”

        “Neil took him over to Bird’s-Eye’s cabin, since it was the closest 
place,” David explained.  “He needs you to come help him, Alice; Dan’s 
not back from searching the Pinnacles, and Neil called for all able 
hands.”

        “I’m on my way,” Miss Alice said, grabbing her hat.  

        Both Miss Alice and David seemed to forget my presence, and I was left 
alone in the cabin.  Probably, it was for the best; when David had said 
that Ault was mangled by an animal, I felt light-headed.  I don’t think 
that my weak stomach, even if I had not been pregnant, could have stood 
watching Neil perform surgery on a mangled man.


CHARLIE PLODDED SLOWLY into the yard just as the moon was beginning to 
rise above the treetops.  I stood on the front porch and watched as my 
husband wearily slid of his horse’s back and came toward the cabin.  
Neil’s gait was uncharacteristically sluggish and his broad shoulders 
slumped.  He had been out since nearly four in the morning, but I knew 
from his defeated expression that he was not merely tired; things had 
not gone well with Ault.

        I went out to Neil and slipped my arms around his waist.  “He didn’t 
make it, did he?” 

        Neil’s hazel eyes were filled with pain, and his voice was choked as he 
answered, “Never had a chance.  By the time Jeb and I found him, he was 
in a deep coma, and I knew he had lost too much blood to ever come out 
of it.  And there was so much damage done to his vital organs . . .”

        The ruddy head bowed, and I held my husband closer so that his head 
rested on my shoulder.  I heard the sharp intake of his breath, then he 
lifted his head and said, through a sob, “These people---the O’Teales 
and Ault---I grew up with them; do you know what it’s like to see this 
happen, to be their only hope of surviving and not being able to help?”
        I rubbed Neil’s back consolingly and crooned softly to him,  “Let it 
all  pour out, my dear Neil.”

        And with that, he buried his face in my neck and wept.

**********************************************************************
Chapter:  Thirty-one
Summary:  Christy pays a visit to Swannie O'Teale.
**********************************************************************


"The Joy of the Children", Chapter Thirty-one


THREE NEW GRAVES were dug on Persimmon Hill.  Three funerals, loud and 
mournful, spread a canopy of melancholy over the Cove.  I took comfort 
in knowing that Wilmer O’Teale, whose very life had been only a vague 
existence, his mind never maturing past infanthood, was in heaven now, 
his body glorified, his innocence consummate with the purity of God’s 
Presence.

        But I was little assured that the souls of Nathan and Ault would find 
the rest and peace the child had, and I grieved for them, for their 
families--the wives and the children who so forlornly beheld the burials 
as if gazing down into the brink of hell itself.

        I had been worried about how Neil would hold up during those difficult 
days following the deaths; the losses of his patients,  his people, 
always put a strain on his emotions.  However, after that first night, a 
peace seemed to envelop him.

        “I don’t know how I remained sane watching this all those years before 
I knew the Lord, Christy,” he had told me.  “It’s amazing how He gives 
comfort and peace in the bleakest situations.”

        Dan Scott was taking the whole whole situation much harder than Neil.

        “This is all my fault,” he said after the last funeral--Ault’s.  

        “Dan--” Miss Alice began, but the man cut her off.

        “They believe I caused the failed harvest.  They started moonshining 
again, and all this happened--because they were lookin’ for me.  All 
they were tryin’ do do was to drive out what they saw was evil.  Their 
actions are almost justified by their superstition!”

        “Listen to thyself, Mr. Scott!” Miss Alice scolded.  “You are being 
completely illogical and irrational.  Ault was not nearly so 
superstitious as to believe that you were truly the cause of that hail 
storm.  He was bitter and hard long before thee came to the Cove.”

        Neil spoke up, “If there was anyone that provoked Ault, it was I, that 
Sunday I gave him a bloody nose and a black eye.”

        “I will not have either of thee attempting to take responsibility for 
these men’s actions,” Miss Alice reprimanded the men.  “What has 
happened has happened.  Ault and Nathan made their own choices.  Now we 
must move on and pick up the pieces.”

        “There sure are a lot, of pieces,” Dan muttered.

        “Yes,” Miss Alice replied tersely, “and they are too heavy for us to 
lift.  To quote our dear Mrs. MacNeill, I’m glad there’s God.  Stop 
pitying thyself, Daniel, and trust the Lord to carry the burdens.”


INWARDLY, over the next few weeks, I felt that Miss Alice’s words were 
easier said than done.  The O’Teale children had not been back to 
school, and nearly three weeks had passed since their father’s death.  
Concerned, I went to their cabin one day after school.

        The stench was more foul than ever, and I saw nailed to the sagging 
eaves of the cabin the rotting, fly-covered carcasses of  possums, 
squirrels, rabbits, and raccoons.  My stomach lurched, but I knew I 
could not turn back.

        George was playing with little Thomas in a filthy patch of the yard.  

        “Howdy, Teacher,” the elder boy said glumly.

        “Hello, George,” I replied.  “How are you and Thomas?”

        “We’re gittin’ along awright, I reckon,” he answered.

        “I’ve missed you in school.”

        “I been missin’ ye, too, Teacher.  Maw won’t let us come.”

        Swannie won’t let them come.  I had figured as much.  “Is your mother 
at home?” I asked, trying to hide my irritation.

        “Yon,” George nodded toward the cabin.

        I took a few steps toward the cabin, but I saw the dead animals hanging 
from the roof, and I turned back.  “George, why are those animals nailed 
to your roof?”

        “They’s Paw’s last kill.  He brung ’em home when he cum back.  Maw’s 
keepin’ ’em t’ ’member him by.”

        I couldn’t even feign approval.  I quickly turned away and walked 
toward the dilapidated cabin, trying to forget what I had just been 
told.  But oh, how disgusting!  How morbid!

        The front door of the cabin, broken and splintered--obviously somebody 
had kicked it in---was open, but I  knocked on the door frame anyway.  
Swannie, a filthy apron covering her stained and tattered dress, was 
violently scrubbing the floor with a dirty rag.  Her face was gaunt and 
thin, and her eyes were hollow as she gazed up at me.

        “May I come in, Swannie?” I timidly asked in response to her silence.

        “Watchye want?”

        “Just to talk.”

        The care-worn, companionship-starved visage brightened a little, and 
the woman stood.  “Come on in’ an’ set,” she said cordially.

        I took a battered chair at the table, which was laden with candles 
burning for the dead.

        “Kin I git ye anything, Miz Christy?  Some sassafras tea?”

        Spying the cracked, soiled-looking cups on a shelf, I thought the 
better of her offer.  “No, thank you, Swannie,” I declined as politely 
as possible.

        “Hear yer expectin’,” Swannie commented so cheerfully I was taken 
aback.

        “Yes.”

        “That’s real nice.  What’s th’ Doc think?”

        “He and I are both very happy.”

        “Ain’t nothin’ like havin’ young’uns,” she said.

        “I’ve missed seeing your children,” I ventured. 
 
        Swannie stiffened, but I continued, “When can I expect them back at 
school?”

        “Wall,” the woman said, rising from her chair.  She began to wipe off 
some dishes--with the same rag she had used to scrub the floor.  “Cain’t 
say that they’ll be back.  Smith an’ Orter, they’s in El Pano lookin’ 
fer work.”

        “Work?”

        “Got t’ put bread on th’ table.”

        “Well, yes, but they must go to school and get a good education,” I 
protested.

        “They’ll git along without book larnin’, I reckon.  I ain’t got no way 
t’ feed my young’uns if’n th’ older ones don’t work,” Swannie said.
        “The mission can help--”

        “I won’t be beholdin’ t’ the’ mission folks.  Nathan don’t like them 
none, nor book larnin’, neither.”

        “Swannie, Nathan is dead . . .” I said, a little confused.

        “Yes’m,” she nodded.  “Ye see, I didn’t pay no heed t’ his wishes when 
he were alive, an’ it done cost me my first boy, my Wilmer.  If’n I 
don’t pay no heed t’ the’ wishes o’ th’ dead, Nathan’s spirit’ll shorely 
haunt us.”

        With a nervous laugh I said, “Oh, Swannie, that’s just superstition.  
Nathan’s spirit can’t harm anyone.”

        “No!” Swannie fairly shrieked, a terrible expression on her face.  
“They ain’t a-goin’ t’ no school!”

        “But Swannie!” I cried.   School  was the only escape the O’Teale 
children had from their horrible home life, and the thought of them 
being trapped by the drudgery of labor, with no hope for the future, was 
too much for me to bear.   “Your children are doing so well in school!  
Smith and Orter . . . And Mountie!  She is one of my best readers; you 
heard her recite!  She--”

        “Mountie hain’t talked none since Nathan passed on,” said Swannie in a 
low, monotone voice.

        I felt as though I had been hit with a brick.  “She won’t talk?”
        The woman shook her head.  “Not one word.  Hit’s a curse, punishment 
fer goin’ against my man’s wishes.”

        Mountie won’t talk.  No, it couldn’t be true.  She was past all that.  
I’d find her; she would talk to me . . .

        “Swannie, if Mountie won’t talk, you must send her back to school.  It 
helped her before!  Oh, don’t you see?”

        Swannie turned away.  “Ye’d best be goin’, ma’am.  Nathan don’t like 
mission folks comin’ hereabouts.”

        Angry, dazed, and sick from the smells and the conversation, I stumbled 
outside, right into Mountie.

        “Mountie!” I cried wildly, grasping her by the shoulders.  “Talk to me!  
You can talk, can’t you Mountie?”

        The littler girl only stared at me, her big blue eyes dull and lifeless 
once more.

        “Oh!” I wailed, then turned on my heel and ran.

        By the time I reached the mission, I was breathless, and my pace was 
only a furious walk.  Neil, who had been helping with the repairing of 
the mission house met me, smiling. 

         “I was about to comb the Cove for you, lass!  Where have you been?”

        “The O’Teales’,” I muttered.  “But ask me about it later.  I can’t talk 
right now.”


AT HOME that evening, I was still angry about my encounter with Swannie.

        “Swannie O’Teale absolutely infuriates me!” I stewed to Neil while I 
viciously chopped up onions.  “She is not fit to be raising those 
children; she’s out of her mind!  Her entire thought process, her 
reasoning, her superstition--it all baffles me, and it is going to 
destroy those children and everything I have tried to teach them.”

        Neil stoked the fire, then sat down on the hearth.

        “Let me tell you about Swannie, Christy.”  His tone was stern, though 
not unkind.  “She never knew her mother, and she and her older sister 
were raised by an abusive drunkard--like Nathan, only worse because he 
was home more--and a granny who was as superstitious as they come out 
here.  To both girls, their granny’s word was gospel.  It was the only 
teaching they ever received, so they never even thought to question its 
validity.”

        I was a bit irritated that my husband did not seem to be on my side of 
the situation.  “Neil, I know Swannie’s had a very difficult life, but 
that is no excuse--”

        “I never said it was an excuse; only an explanation.”

        I placed my knife on the cutting board and sat down next to Neil on the 
hearth.  

        “Mountie--” my voice faltered.  “Mountie won’t talk.”

        Neil said nothing, just looked at me, waiting for me to go on.

        A tear rolled down my cheek.  “I’m afraid that if Mountie falls back 
into that pitiful state she was in when I first came here, we’ll lose 
her completely.”

        Taking the greatest care, Neil wiped away my tears with his calloused 
fingers.  “We won’t lose Mountie, Christy.  You love her, and she knows 
that.”

        Neil put his arm around me, and wearily, I lay my head on his shoulder.  
        “You know,” he said softly in my ear.  “That’s one of the reasons I 
fell in love with you--because you loved Mountie O’Teale.” 
**********************************************************************

Chapter:  Thirty-two
Summary:  Neil and Christy have an unexpected visit.
**********************************************************************

"The Joy of the Children", Chapter Thirty-two:


THE NEXT DAY, I left the schoolhouse and started across the yard to the 
mission house.  Neil was busy sawing some boards for the floor of the 
parlor.

        “Well,” he grinned as I approached him, laying aside his saw.  “You 
look like a woman with a mission.  What objective has put such a 
determined expression on your pretty face?”

        “I’m going to the O’Teales’.  I just wanted to tell you so you wouldn’t 
worry.”

        Neil’s grin faded.  “You’re not going to try to convince Swannie to 
send her children to school again?”

        “No, I just want to see the children.  I won’t be long.”

        I started down the hill in the direction of  the road, but two quick 
strides and Neil cut me off.

        “I don’t think you should go.”

        “Why not?  I have to let the children know that I still care about 
them, that they’re loved . . . “

        “I know,” he replied gently, grasping my hands.  “But I don’t think you 
should go today.”

        I was a bit cast down, a bit annoyed, but Neil looked into my eyes 
pleadingly and squeezed my hands a little tighter.  “In a few days, 
maybe, Christy, but not yet.  Swannie’s not ready, and you’re not, 
either; you’re still angry with her, and your visit would only be 
meddlesome, as good as your intentions are.”

        “Neil---”

        “Hush, love,” my husband whispered.  “I have a feeling that a more 
opportune time for a visit is not far away.   But promise me you’ll put 
it off for a while.”

        “All right,” I said resignedly, smiling a little.  “I won’t even try to 
change your mind.  You are as stubborn as a mule, Neil MacNeill.”

        “Well, I think this is the first time I’ve been able to change yours, 
so don’t go calling me a mule, lass,” Neil laughed, putting his arm 
about my waist and guiding me towards Charlie.  “Come on, let’s go 
home.”



NEIL was one of the only people who knew how difficult it was for me to 
wait.  I could not stand to not be involved when something was wrong or 
when somebody needed help.  But as hard as the waiting was, Neil was 
right; often my desire to “fix” things resulted only in meddling, 
leaving a situation no better than it had been.  Little did I know that 
I was to learn not only to wait, but that God’s timing was always 
perfect, and I could best serve Him in His time.

        The very next morning, while Neil and I washed the breakfast dishes, I 
noticed somebody coming up the hill.  I stopped what I was doing and 
stared out the window for a better look.

        “My Lord,” I murmured.  “Neil, it’s Smith O’Teale--and Orter Ball and 
Mountie!”

        In an instant I was with the children, ushering them inside the cabin.

        “What brings you three all the way out here so early in the morning?” 
asked Neil.

        “We’re a-headin’ out,” said Smith.

        “Wanted t’ tell ye, Miz Christy, so’s ye wouldn’t be wondrin’ whar we’d 
gone to,” Orter added.

        “Where are you going?” I asked, a bit alarmed.

        “Got us work at a cotton mill in South Carolina,” Smith informed us.

        “Ain’t ye from Carolina, Miz Christy?” interjected Orter.

        “North,” I told him absently.  “But all three of you are going to work 
in a mill?”

        “Yes’m,” nodded Orter.  “We kin each make a dollar a week an’ send hit 
home t’ Maw an’ th’ young’uns.”

        “Where will you live?”

        “We’ll find somethin’, Teacher,” Orter assured me.  “Th’ city’s bound 
t’ have lots o’ places we kin stay at.  Donchye be worryin’ none ’bout 
us’uns.”

        Neil spoke.  “How are you going to get to South Carolina?”

        “Train,” was Smith’s reply.

        His more verbose younger brother elaborated.  “We sold th’ last o’ 
Paw’s ’shine t’ pay fer hit.”  Orter added, a bit downcast, “I know ye 
don’t approve none o’ ’shine, Miz Christy, but hit were th’ onliest way.  
We shorely couldn’t be walkin’ that fur piece.”

        “We understand, Orter,” said Neil.  “We’re not angry about the 
moonshine.  But we are very sorry to see you go.”

        “Don’t want to much, Doc, but hit’s th’ right thing.  Got t’ be 
thinkin’ ’bout Maw an’ th’ young’uns.”

        Mountie looked up at me then, tears in her eyes.  “Teacher, I want t’ 
stay!  I want t’ go t’ school agin!”

        She talked!  A bitter-sweet joy surged through me, as I gathered the 
little girl into my lap.

        Mountie clung to my neck and sobbed, “I love ye, Teacher.”

        “I love you, Mountie,” I said, tears streaming down my cheeks.  I 
reached out for the boys.  Smith showed little emotion, but Orter cried 
openly as I embraced him.

        “Wal,” Smith said presently, “we’uns need t’ be hittin’ th’ road.”  And 
he walked out the door.

        “Orter, wait,” said Neil, walking over to the mantle and opening a 
wooden box where he kept money.  He took out a few bills and handed them 
to Orter.   “I know you won’t be beholding, but you may encounter an 
emergency in the city.  If you need to come, or if one of you needs a 
doctor, this should take care of it.  But do not use it unless it is 
absolutely necessary.  Do you understand me?”

        “Yessir, Doc,” the boy replied, tucking the money into his shirt 
pocket.  “We’re obleeged t’ ye.”

        Neil had written something on a piece of paper, and he handed it to 
Orter, too.  “This is the mission’s address and ours.  Don’t hesitate to 
write if you need anything.”

        “Is there anything else we can do for you, Orter?” I asked.  “If you’ll 
wait a few more minutes, I’ll pack a lunch for you three.”

        “No thank ye, ma’am.  Maw sent us some vittles.  An’ we cain’t be 
takin’ anything else from ye.  We’re beholdin’ already.”

        No one said anything for a moment, but Orter finally said, “Wal, Miz 
Christy, thar is one thing I’d like t’ ask of ye.  Will ye look in on 
Maw?  She ain’t right, an’ she ain’t got no one . . . If’n ye could jest 
love ’er like ye love us’uns, hit’ud be real good.”

        “Of course,” I said, my voice catching in my throat.  

        After a final embrace, Orter and Mountie joined their brother and set 
off for El Pano.

        “Heavenly Father,” I murmured.  “Keep those children safe.  Keep them 
safe.”  I uttered the words over and over until the O’Teale children had 
vanished from sight. 


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

Chapter:  Thirty-three
Summary:  I can't really think of a way to summarize this one.  It's a 
little too "mixed" to have a summary.
**********************************************************************


"The Joy of the Children", Chapter Thirty-three:



“IF’N YE COULD JEST LOVE ’er like ye love us’uns, hit’ud be real good . 
. .” 

        Orter Ball O’Teale’s words kept me preoccupied the rest of the day.  
Love Swannie.  I loved her children, but had I ever really loved 
Swannie?  I had pitied her, but what of that?  The words of First 
Corinthians rang in my head:  “And though I bestow all my goods to feed 
the poor, and though I give my body to be burned, and have not love, it 
profiteth me nothing.”  

        Why had I never loved Swannie?  It had been so easy to love Fairlight 
and Opal; their hearts were open and willing to love.  But Swannie was 
as tough as flint and kept to herself. She could not give love because 
she could not accept it.  She didn’t even know what it was.

        “Oh, God,” I sighed, sitting down at my desk after school.  “How barren 
life would be if I did not know love.  You have given me so much love, 
Lord.  I feel Your Presence and Your love all the time.  You gave me a 
loving family, loving friends, the children, and a wonderful husband . . 

.  My life is so full, God, and Swannie’s is so empty.  Pour Your love 
out of me into her.”

        Suddenly, an overwhelming compassion welled up inside me, and I stood 
up and marched out the schoolhouse door and down the road to the 
O’Teales’.


        Swannie was out in the yard when I reached the cabin, tending to the 
pigs and chickens.  She stared at me, a perplexed expression on her 
face.

        “They’ve a-gone,” she said.  “Gone t’ work, Miz Christy.  Won’t be 
comin’ back, I telled ye.”

        “I know,” I replied, approaching her.  “But I didn’t come to see your 
children.”  

        Impulsively, I threw my arms around the woman.  Her body remained stiff 
and rigid, and she did not return my embrace, but I held her anyway.  
“Swannie,  I think it’s about time that I paid you a visit now and 
then.” 

        Swannie shrank from my hold and backed away.  She looked almost 
frightened as she backed towards her cabin, saying, “I ain’t got no time 
fer no visit right now.  Reckon hit’ll jest have t’ wait.”

        I would not be dissuaded.  “All right, Swannie.  I’ll come see you 
tomorrow.”



THE WINTER MONTHS seemed to linger longer than usual in Cutter Gap.  The 
snows of mid-December did not stop until long past the near year, and 
much of that time we were snowed in.  I didn’t mind that much--the long, 
quiet days spent with Neil before a roaring fire, enjoying one another, 
planning for our baby . . .

        On days when I was able to get out of the cabin, I went to see Swannie.  
She received me somberly at first, but I persisted in my visits, going 
to her as I would have gone to see Fairlight Spencer or any other 
friend.  That woman desperately needed love and companionship, and I was 
going to give it to her.   And the more time I spent with Swannie, the 
easier it became for me to see past her tough exterior and into hear 
heart--her real, flesh and blood human heart.  

        I was not the only one who sensed the needs of Swannie O’Teale; Opal 
Taylor had been visiting the woman, too.

        “Miz Christy,” she told me one February afternoon when she came by the 
school to give me some fresh gingerbread, “Maybe ye disremember, but 
oncst ye came t’ see me--when th’ blockaders was after my Tom.  Ye said 
that God had telled ye t’ come.”

        “Yes, Opal, I do remember that day.”  I remembered it very well, in 
fact.  The details of the fear and strangeness of that entire situation 
were permanently etched in my mind.

        “Wal,” Opal continued.  “I know jest whatchye meant by hit.  Ye see, I 
was readin’ in th’ Bible one day past, an’ hit was a-talkin’ ’bout 
lovin’ yer neighbors.  That got me t’ thinkin’ bout th’ people in th’ 
Cove, an’ I know th’ Lord warn’t jest talkin’ ’bout those who lived 
close by.  He’s a-talkin’ ’bout people around us who’s in need, ain’t 
He, Miz Christy?”

        “He is, Opal.”

        Big, fawn-like eyes glowed.  “Right then, it was as if a name had been 
whispered in my ear an’ laid on my heart.  I knew I was t’ go’n see 
Swannie.  An’ ye know what?  I knew I had t’ tell ’er, jest like ye 
telled me, that God had telled me t’ come.  An’ jest like when it was me 
in that place, Swannie jest couldn’t hardly believe it none that God 
cared ’bout her an’ her young’uns.”

        Opal was really excited now.  “Th’ other night when Bird’s-Eye was 
a-readin’ out loud from th’ Bible, he read a verse--let me think now, 
what hit were . . . ‘Castin’ all yer care upon Him, fer He careth fer 
you.’  I ’membered hit when I was at Swannie’s, an’ I telled hit t’ her.  
She looked rightly gladdened t’ her hit!”

        I clasped Opal’s hands and cried, “Oh, Opal, that’s wonderful!”
        “Ain’t hit, though?  Jest plumb wondrous!  Th’ Lord shorely is good, 
ain’t he?”



THE SNOWS began to melt, and so did the seasons, one into another.  
March crept forth quietly, but by the middle of the month, the mountains 
suddenly burst forth with a million colors and sounds.  Everywhere I was 
surrounded by new life, and I was all the more aware of the new life 
inside of me.

        The first time I noticed that I was beginning to visibly show that I 
was pregnant, I had let out a little cry of delight.  I grabbed Neil’s 
hand and placed it on my stomach.  “Do you feel that little bulge?”

        “Yes, love,” he smiled, as elated as I was.  “There’s definitely a 
little one in there!”

        Now, five months into my pregnancy, my belly was swelling rapidly.   I 
could feel my baby’s tiny hands and feet pushing and kicking against my 
abdomen, and each time I was filled with a flutter of excitement at my 
soon-to-be motherhood.  One night, I lay in bed, the baby kicking 
fiercely inside of me, as he had been for hours.  

        “Oh,” I murmured.

         Neil looked up from his Bible.  “Still kicking?”

        “Yes!”  I laughed, as he moved his hand so he could feel it.

        “My word, he’s a feisty lad, isn’t he?”  

        Both of us always referred to the baby as “he”, for some reason; I was 
convinced my first child would be a boy.  I wasn’t sure Neil was, or if 
he simply said “he” to satisfy my whim.  I seriously doubted if he cared 
one bit whether the baby was a boy or a girl--he was just so happy that 
we were going to have a child!

        “Well, feistiness isn’t something that runs in the MacNeill family, is 
it dear?” I teased.

        “No, of course not,” Neil replied with a grin.  “He’s inherited that 
all from you.”


        
ONE EVENING about two weeks later, while I was preparing dinner, Neil 
came home from a call and immediately wrapped his arms around me.

        “You never cease to amaze me, lass.”

        I turned my head and looked at my husband quizzically.  

        “I saw Swannie O’Teale today,” Neil explained.  “I think your visits 
have worked a miracle on her.  She had a liveliness about her I’ve never 
seen.  Then she told me you had helped her clean her cabin.  When did 
you do that?”

        “Saturday, while you were in Raven Gap.”

        Neil nodded, then said.  “I looked around at that house, and it was 
spotless--the dead animals weren’t hanging on the roof anymore, 
either--that’s a big achievemement to have gotten her to take them down.  
And I could just picture you down on your hands and knees scrubbing the 
floor of ‘the least of these’.  If that’s not love in action . . .”

        I felt a little awkward that Neil was praising my actions, and I looked 
down and pretended to pay attention to the simmering gravy on the stove.  
“I think Opal’s done more for Swannie than I have.  But it was something 
I had to do, Neil.  I had to show Swannie love in some way other than 
just chatting with her every afternoon.  Don’t forget, the first time I 
went to the O’Teales’ I lost my supper . . .”

        He gave a small chuckle and tightened his embrace.  “I know, and that’s 
further proof of what I wanted to tell you:  God is visibly working 
through you, love.  You can’t imagine how proud I am to have such a 
woman as you for my wife!”

        “Well,” I replied, wrapping my arms around his neck.  “Cleaning the 
O’Teale’s cabin is not nearly as great as what you do for people every 
day, Doctor.”

        Neil made a face.  “On the contrary, lass!  I’d rather have my job any 
day--epidemics and surgeries and all--than to try to clean that cabin!”


SOMEONE WAS SINGING when I approached the O’Teales’ cabin the next day.  
As I rounded the corner of the house, my breath caught in my throat at 
the sight I beheld.  There, in a corner of the yard, totally unaware of 
my presence, knelt Swannie, who was busy planting her herb garden.  On 
her face was an expression of utmost rapture, and she was singing.  
Singing!  And though her voice was not pleasing, I had never heard 
anything more beautiful than Swannie O’Teale singing the words of the 
Appalachian hymn:

As the hart longs for flowing streams,
So longs my soul for You, O God.
My soul does thirst for the living God.
When shall I come to see Your face?

My tears have fed me day and night,
While men have said, “Where is your God?”
But I recall as my soul pours dry
The days of praise within Your house.

Why do I mourn and toil within,
When it is mine to hope in God?
I shall again sing praise to Him,
He is my help, He is my  God.

**********************************************************************
Chapter:  Thirty-four   
Summary:  Springtime comes to the Cove, and a mountain is moved.
**********************************************************************


"The Joy of the Children", Chapter Thirty-four:

THE MISSION HOUSE was completely repaired by the third week of March, 
thanks to the dedicated work of the mountain men.  Bird’s-Eye Taylor, 
Bob Allen, and Jeb Spencer in particular, were angered at how the 
mission had been a target of the blockaders, and, filled with a fierce 
sense of loyalty and justice, spent nearly every day, rain, shine, or 
snow, working on the building.  

        Most of the furniture (except, by some miracle, the Lyon and Healy 
concert grand piano) had been damaged beyond repair, but Mother, upon 
hearing of the fire, rounded up enough extra furniture from members of 
my family’s church in Asheville to furnish the entire mission house.  In 
fact, we were so overflowing with donations (much like when I had 
written asking for old clothes), the three hard-working men were paid in 
tables, chairs, and beds,  and a few other pieces went home with Neil 
and me.

        Finally, when life seemed to be calm and somewhat normal in Cutter Gap 
(for the first time in months, it seemed), thoughts were once again 
turned to the upcoming planting season.  The Cove families had survived 
the winter, but they still had no money to buy seed so they could plant 
their crops.  It was a fearful  time for the mountain people, even more 
frightening than the initial shock and horror of losing a year’s income.  
There was talk of selling land, moving to the city, getting jobs in 
factories, mines, or mills.  

        In dismay, I realized that these were perhaps the only options for the 
mountain people.  If they could not make a living here, then they would 
have to go elsewhere to feed their families.  But I could not imagine 
these people anywhere else.  The mountains of Tennessee were all they 
had ever known.  Their entire existence was here in the Cove.  Their 
histories, their stories, their music, their simple, antiquated way of 
life . . . 

        I realized how much I loved Cutter Gap, how it was in my blood; it was 
my home.  And Neil---he had sacrificed so much to stay in his beloved 
mountains and practice medicine in this little community where he had 
been raised, which he loved perhaps even more deeply than anyone else 
loved it.  How would he be able to stand watching it all disappear?  

        Late one night, after Neil had fallen asleep and I had been lying awake 
for hours wondering, worrying, I silently crept out of bed and 
downstairs.  There, I curled up on the sofa, buried my face in the 
cushions, and wept.  Oblivious to everything but my feelings of fear of 
grief and loss, I didn’t notice that I was wailing until I felt Neil’s 
hand resting softly on my shoulder.  He must have been awakened by my 
cries.

        “Christy love,” he said seriously, wiping away my tears with his 
forefinger, “I know you’re worried about all the talk that’s going 
around in the Cove, but you must have faith.”  Neil exuded confidence as 
he added, “God has brought us through so much; He will not abandon these 
people---or us---now.   Have faith!”

        I found strength in my husband’s faith, and after he had gone back to 
bed, I remained downstairs and prayed---for a miracle.

        “God, You saved Noah and his family from the flood.  You delivered 
Shadrach, Meshach, and Abed-Nego from the fiery furnace and Daniel from 
the lion’s den.  You made virgins and barren women conceive.  You raised 
the widow’s son and Lazarus and Jesus from the dead.  I know what 
wonderful things You can do, Father.  Please, Lord, save this Cove.  I 
know You can.  Please, save this Cove.”

        For two days, I prayed that simple prayer continuously, but then it 
suddenly changed.  

        “Father,” I found myself saying, almost unconsciously.  “Thy will be 
done.  Not mine, but Yours.”  



SOMETIMES GOD ANSWERED prayer through circumstances.  Sometimes He 
whispered to my heart.  And sometimes, He wrote letters.

        Rather, God spoke through the letters of other people.  But on that 
March afternoon, one week before the spring planting holiday, when I 
received a letter from Hazen Smith, I was convinced that it was from God 
Himself.

        “U-NITED STATES MA-IL!”  Ben Pentland bellowed from the doorway of the 
schoolhouse.

        “Hello, Mr. Pentland,” I said, looking up from the composition I was 
grading.  “Do you have a letter for me?”

        “Yes ma’am,” he grinned, handing me an envelope.  “Cum Knoxville-way.”

        I glanced at the return address:  Hazen Smith!  With a burst of 
unexplainable excitement, I tore open the envelope and eagerly read the 
letter.  My eyes widened, and I clapped my hand over my mouth to keep 
from screaming as the words---to wonderful to be true---unfolded before 
me.  

        “Oh, Mr. Pentland!” I cried, jumping up from my chair and kissing him 
on the cheek.  “Oh, I’ve never been more excited to receive a letter in 
my whole life!  Thank you so much!”

        “What’s this here about?” the mailman asked unabashedly. 

        “I can’t talk now!” I gasped, running out the door.  “But oh, it’s from 
God!”

        Fortunately for me, Neil was the first person I saw when I bounded down 
the schoolhouse steps, for I was so dizzy with joy I would have embraced 
and kissed anyone who crossed my path.  As it was, he had barely 
dismounted Charlie when I threw my arms around his neck and kissed him 
over and over.

        “Well, this must have been some extraordinary day for you, lass!” Neil 
exclaimed, a bit perplexed by my outpouring of affection.
        I took his face in my hands, smiled, and kissed him again, then 
declared, “It’s a miracle, Neil!  A miracle!  I prayed for a miracle, 
and God came through!  See, He just sent this letter!”

        “God sent you a letter, Christy?  This is something!”

        “Well, Hazen Smith sent it, but God told him to!  Oh, Neil, everything 
is going to work out here!  Nobody’s going to have to leave, and the 
people will have their crops, and they won’t feel it’s charity . . .”

        “Woah, lass, slow down!” Neil laughed.  “Let me read the letter.”

        “ ‘Dear Miss Huddleston---’ obviously, he doesn’t know you’re married.  

‘Just a quick line to ask you about an idea I’ve been entertaining.  
Some of my fellow businessmen and I have been considering going into the 
corn business.  Only problem is, Knoxville’s not exactly the best place 
to grow crops, and we don’t know anything about it, anyway.  However, we 
are all very taken with the idea, and if we just had people to grow 
it---I remembered that the people in your community are corn farmers . . 
.’ ”

        Neil laughed for joy without even finishing the letter.  “Christy, 
you’re right!  It is from God!”  And he picked me up and swung me around 
the yard, both of us ecstatic beyond words, making quite a scene with 
our wild laughter and kissing.  After a few minutes of this, we were 
left rather breathless, but Neil held me at arms’ length and smiled down 
at me.

        “What’s that verse, lass?  ‘The prayer of a righteous man---’ or woman, 
in this case---‘availeth much.’ ”

        “Now, don’t go praising me Neil MacNeill!  There were lots of other 
people besides me who prayed about this.  To quote Miss Alice, ‘Remove 
me from thy pedestal’.  Besides, my faith was weak until yours moved me 
on.”

        “I will agree with you that the faith of many has moved our 
‘mountain’,” Neil replied.  “But I won’t remove you from my pedestal; I 
will always worship the ground on which you tread!”  He kissed my 
forehead.  “Well then, we’d better go show this letter to all the others 
who have prayed so faithfully, or they’ll never forgive us!”


OF COURSE the mountain people accepted Hazen Smith’s offer.  He would 
provide the seed, and the Cove families would be his employees, paid in 
both money and a portion of the harvest.  Though the offer was 
generous---maybe a little too generous, in the eyes of the rest of the 
world---Mr. Smith presented it in so diplomatic a way that the 
highlander pride was not in the least wounded.  The term “employee” 
eliminated the plan being viewed as charity.  After all, an employer 
could run a business however he chose, and why should the employees 
question generosity?

        So, with a light heart, I wired Hazen Smith, and he replied saying the 
seed would arrive the next week---the week before the planting holiday.

**********************************************************************
Chapter:  Thirty-five
Summary:  Some changes for Christy and the school children.

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

"The Joy of the Children", Chapter Thirty-five:

AFTER DINNER the evening before the last day of school, Neil told me to 
rest while he cleaned up the kitchen.  Wearily, I sat down on the sofa, 
listening to my husband’s cheerful  whistling as he washed the dishes.  
It had been a long day at school---a good one, but draining.  My back 
was stiff, and my feet were so tired . . .

        In a few minutes, the dishes were all back in the cupboard, and Neil 
dried off his hands and tossed aside the towel.  He sat down opposite me 
on the sofa and gently removed my shoes and began to massage my feet.

        “Thank you,” I murmured.  He always knew just what I needed.

        “Christy,” Neil said, a hint of authority in his voice, “you’re going 
to have to stop teaching.”

        “Oh, Neil, no!”  I protested.  “Not yet!  I’m fine, really!”

        “Listen to me, lass,” he said firmly.  “I know you’re not quite six 
months along, and I said you should be able to teach longer, but the 
baby is already larger than I anticipated.  You’re worn out from being 
pregnant, then add teaching five days a week to that . . . And look at 
you’re feet; you come home every day with them so swollen and sore you 
can hardly stand.  Teaching isn’t helping that, either.  Christy, you 
have to take care of yourself.”

        “I know,” I admitted sadly.  “I know I need to stop.  I just hoped I 
would be able to teach longer.  I love teaching, Neil!”

        Neil gathered me to him.  “I know you love teaching, lass.  And I’m 
sorry you---you became pregnant so soon after our marriage.”

        Instantly, all feelings of self-pity abandoned me.  “I’m not sorry.  
Neil, I am so happy to be carrying your child!  Please don’t ever think 
I care more about teaching than about my family.”

        “I never think that, love.  I just what you to be happy---doing the 
things you love.”

        “Well,” I assured my husband, running my fingers through those stubborn 
curls. “I still have one more day to do it, and though I will miss 
teaching, I don’t think my happiness will be a problem, with the baby 
coming soon . . . And until then, I know I’ll enjoy being at home.”  
Then I added, in a tone which earned me a passionate kiss, “Especially 
when you’re not out making calls.”


“MISS ALICE, today will be my last day to teach.”  I had gone to Miss 
Alice’s cabin the next morning, and I sat watching her silently pin up 
her hair.

        “Neil and I decided last night that it would probably be for the best,” 
I added.

        Miss Alice nodded, and for once, her silence annoyed me.

        “Aren’t you going to say anything?”

        “I was just thinking, Christy,” she replied, “that there is not much I 
can say.  It is perfectly right for you to resign from your teaching 
duties at this time in your life, and I must admit, I was a little 
worried that thee would try to convince Neil to let thee continue 
teaching up until the moment you go into labor!”

        I smiled and shook my head.  “I can’t convince that man of anything!”

        Miss Alice laughed.  “You do better than most, Christy.  You’re good 
for him.”  She added, seriously, “You have been good for the children, 
too.  I know they shall miss thee.”

        “I’ll miss them.  Of course, it’s not as if I was going away.”

        “Of course not,” replied Miss Alice.  “And in a few years, when your 
children---” We both smiled at the plural form---“are older, then you 
may be able to teach again, if thee so desire.”

        I nodded, as she continued, “All of us at the mission are truly 
grateful for all you have done---for thy perseverance, thy service, thy 
loving spirit . . . Thou art a truly special person, Christy MacNeill, 
and I know that God will continue to use thee, whether you are teaching 
school or not.”

        We embraced and shed a few tears, but then Miss Alice straightened up 
and asked, “Where is thy husband?” 
 
        “At the mission house.”

        “Have the two of thee eaten?”

        “No,” I replied, blushing a little.  

        “Christy,” Miss Alice said with a smile, “do not worry about being 
presumptuous!  You and your husband are welcome to dine with us at the 
mission house any time!  Does thee not know that?”

        “Well, I was just afraid that Ida---”

        “Ida Grantland may spit tacks outwardly, but I know that she enjoys thy 
company as much as any of us!  So, Mrs. MacNeill, let us join our 
friends for breakfast!”

I TREASURED every second of my last day at school.  For as long as I 
would live, every face, every smile, every voice would be etched as 
clearly on my mind as if I was seeing the children face-to-face.  I 
listened carefully to every question, never brushing anyone aside.  I 
laughed at every joke and antic of my pupils.  I put my whole heart into 
every lesson I taught that day, whether it was to the very little 
students, stumbling through their primer books, or to Rob Allen and 
Lizette Holcombe in their mastery of the foreign authors.  I wanted this 
last day to be the one that years later those sixty-some-odd children 
and youths would look back upon and fondly remember “Miz Christy”.

        At the end of the day, after Cecile and I had finished collecting books 
from the students, just before time for class to be dismissed,  I slowly 
walked to the front of the classroom.  As I walked that aisle, gazing at 
the ever-energetic children, I felt exactly as I had felt that first 
morning at school more than two years before.  I was scared, my legs 
were trembly.  

        When I reached my desk, I faced the children for several long moments, 
trying hard not to cry.  

        “Boys and girls,” I began, failing to control the tremor in my voice.  
“I’ve been your teacher for two years now.  I want you all to know that 
I thank God for every minute of our time together, for every one of 
you.”

        I noticed Rob Allen slowly shaking his head as if he knew what I was 
about to say, willing me not to say it.

        “But as you all know, Dr. MacNeill and I are expecting a baby of our 
own very soon,  and I’m not going to be able to teach you any longer.”

        The expressions on the faces of the children were heart-wrenching.  
Some of the girls began to cry; a few of the boys begged me not to stop 
teaching; still others looked angry.

        “Why’d ye have t’ go’n have an ol’ baby fer?” asked Creed Allen, his 
face twisted in a grimace.  “We’s got enough o’ them ’round hereabouts, 
without th’ teachers goin’ an’ havin’ ’em!” 

        Creed’s remark caused a vile thought to creep into my mind:  Had my 
marriage and pregnancy not been in God’s plan for me?  Obviously, it was 
hurting my students deeply.  Would my ministry in the Cove be ruined by 
this?  

        Quickly, I shook the thought away; it was too ugly, and I knew it 
wasn’t true.  But what would I say to the children?  Fortunately, at 
that moment, David strode through the open doors of the schoolroom.

        “Boys and girls,” he said sternly, “what has caused this uproar?”

        “Teacher’s a-leavin’ us t’ have her baby,” Creed explained, glowering 
spitefully.  “Thawt she’d cum here t’ teach us fer good, not t’ git a 
husband an’ have no babies.”  

        I marveled at how dirty the word “baby”---one of the sweetest words I 
could think of---sounded the way Creed had said it just then.  But David 
was glaring at the boy with a look that made him cower back in his seat.

        “What a hateful thing to say, Creed,” the tall minister said.  “You 
just told your teacher that she was selfish.”

        “N-no, sir,” stammered the boy, shaking his head.  “I didn’t, 
neither---”

        “You did,” David cut him off.  “That’s exactly what you meant, and you 
know it.”  He laid a hand on my shoulder.  “Mrs. MacNeill is one of the 
most generous, loving people I have ever met, and I know each of you 
feels the same way about her.  Now, I know you’re all sad that she won’t 
be teaching you any more, but did you know that Mrs. MacNeill is very 
sad herself about leaving all of you?”

        The children shook their heads, and David continued.  “But it’s not as 
if she was leaving the Cove.  You will see her at church on Sundays, and 
I’m sure she will come and visit the school when she can.”

        “That’s right,” I said.  “And you can come visit me any time you like.”

        “So,” David resumed, “I know you’ll all want to tell Mrs. MacNeill how 
much you appreciate her and how much you’re going to miss her.  But 
before we do that---” he turned and motioned to Cecile, who was standing 
at the back of the room---“remember what a good teacher Mrs. Scott is.”

        Thank God for Cecile, I thought.  The children liked her.  She would 
make the whole situation much easier.

        “Well,” I said, managing a smile, “it’s time to go.  I love you 
all---remember that.  I love you all very much!”

        The children all gathered around me; I laughed and cried, hugged and 
kissed, smoothed back hair and whispered little praises and thank-yous.  

        “Never was no teacher quite like ye, Miz Christy.”

        “Shorely will miss ye.”

        “I’ll cum by’an’ swap howdies with ye, Teacher,” said Little Burl, 
smiling up at me as I laughed and kissed the little red-headed boy with 
the cowlick.

        Rob added, “Shorely will.  I’ll bring ’im as offin as we kin git out t’ 
yer place.”

        “I’m glad, Rob.  And I want to read everything you write, young man.”

        The teenager grinned.  “Yes’m!  Ye shorely kin!”

        “Miz Christy,” said Bessie Coburn, “will we still git t’ put on plays?”

        “I’m sure you will,” I smiled.  “I’ll come help, too.”

        “Ye will, Teacher?”

        “Yes, Bessie, I will.”  I turned to Lizette Holcombe, who was standing 
with her friend.  “And you, young lady, I’ll be at the recitation.  I 
hope to see you win the spelling bee this year.”

        “I’m a-studyin’ already, Miz Christy,” she replied happily.  “I’ll win 
fer ye; I promise I will, Teacher!”

        When all the children had finally gone home, I lingered in the 
schoolhouse.  I collected my various personal items, then ran my hand 
over the top of my battered desk.  I walked from wall to wall, gazing at 
the student’s work, lost in all my memories of the past two-and-a-half 
years.  A mixture of emotions filled my heart; senses of victory and 
accomplishment, joy and love, also the bitter pang of grief at leaving 
it all . . .

        But then, my baby began kicking rapidly, and I was given a gentle 
reminder that life was made up of changes and moving on without looking 
back, only forward, always forward.  And with the thought of what the 
near future would bring, I couldn’t help but smile as I walked out of 
the schoolhouse, shutting the double doors behind me.

**********************************************************************
Summary:  Christy has a visitor.
"The Joy of the Children", Chapter Thirty-six:

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


THE RIDE HOME was quiet, and I was perfectly content for it to remain 
so, as I sorted through the ocean of thoughts which flooded my mind.  
Neil did not pry, nor did he try to distract me with idle small talk.  
He understood the peace that often came from silence, and he knew that 
was what I needed at the moment.
        When we arrived at our cabin, Neil and I shared a laugh as I awkwardly 
tried to dismount Charlie.  I was sitting sideways in the saddle in 
front of Neil, with one leg hooked around the saddle horn.  Now matter 
what position I tried, I could not maneuver to get off the horse. It 
seemed that every time I moved, my stomach was in the way!
        “This isn’t working, dear,” I said, exasperated.
        Neil grinned.  “You managed it this morning.”
        “Well, I think your son grew some more during the day.”
        “My son?”
        “Yes.”
        Though both of us were enjoying the absurdity of my situation, I was 
growing a bit uncomfortable.  “Neil, are you going to help me, or are we 
going to stay up here forever?”
        Neil laughed again and swung down from the saddle.  He reached up for 
me and easily lifted me off of Charlie, placing a gentle kiss on my 
forehead.
        “Just my forehead?” I asked coyly as my feet found the ground.
        “Well, since you asked . . .” 
        We were quite engrossed with one another, when I opened my eyes and saw 
Creed Allen standing next to Charlie, watching attentively.  Blushing, I 
disengaged myself from Neil’s embrace.
        “Creed, is there something I can do for you?”
        “No ma’am,” the boy replied.  “Jest be needin’ t’ talk with ye.”  A sly 
grin spread across his face.  “If’n I be interruptin’ somethin’, I kin 
wait a spell.”
        “That won’t be necessary, Creed,” I said quickly.  “We’re finished.”
        “For now,” Neil added impishly, winking at me as he took Charlie’s 
reigns and led him to the barn.  
        Alone with Creed, I sat down on the porch steps.  “Well, I certainly 
hope that you’re not still angry with me, Creed.”
        “That’s what I cum t’ talk with ye ’bout, Miz Christy; I’s real sorry 
fer sayin’ them things t’ ye,” he replied, sitting down beside me.  
“Y’see, I ain’t mad atchye no more.  I warn’t really mad t’ begin with, 
only I was jest sad, an’ I didn’t want t’ cry in front o’ none o’ them 
other boys.  Rob warn’t cryin’ none, though he’s jest as tore up ’bout 
ye not teachin’ as I was.”
        Creed laid a grubby hand on my shoulder in a manly way and looked me 
right in the eye.  “Teacher, there ain’t nothin’ wrong with ye havin’ no 
baby.  Babies is kind o’ nice, I reckon.  Aim t’ git me a wife an’ have 
a passel myself someday.  D’ ye know what kind o’ baby yer a-havin, 
Teacher?”
        “Not for sure, Creed.  I have a feeling it’s a boy, and I hope it is, 
but you never know until the baby comes.”
        “Boys is th’ best babies,” Creed said seriously.  “When’s hit comin’ 
ezackly?”
        “In June,” I replied, smiling at the sudden turn the boy had taken.  I 
had never seen a child so interested in babies!
        “Wal, then, ye reckon I’ll be able t’ see yer baby when hit cums?”
        “I reckon you will, Creed.”
        “Glad t’ hear hit,” said the boy, standing up.  “Wal, Miz Christy, I’d 
best be headin’ home t’ do my chores afore Paw beats th’ tar out’n me.  
But if’n he does hit, I don’t care none, ’cause talkin’ t’ ye was jest 
somethin’ I reckoned I had t’ do.  Shorely will miss ye’n school, Miz 
Christy.”
        “I’ll miss you, too Creed,” I told him, tousling his hair.  “You be 
good, all right?  Study hard, and don’t give Mrs. Scott any trouble.”
        “Land, Miz Christy!  I’d never try t’ give no one no trouble!”  he 
cried.  “Badness jest likes t’ happen sometimes, without me givin’ my 
say.  Too bad them switches don’t know that . . .”
        With great difficulty, I restrained an overwhelming urge to fall over 
laughing.  “Go on, Creed,” I smiled, with a shake of my head and a 
gentle swat on Creed’s seat.  “I’ll see you at church on Sunday.”
        I watched Creed scamper off into the woods, and when he had disappeared 
from sight, I leaned my head on the porch rail and collapsed into peals 
of helpless laughter.  I laughed until my sides hurt, until the tears 
rolled down my cheeks.  What a sense of humor God has, I thought, to 
have created such a character as Creed Allen!


ON SUNDAY, Swannie O’Teale came to church for the first time in months.  
In fact, afterward she sought me out from among the exceptionally large 
crowd.  
        “Howdy, Miz Christy,” she said with a smile.  “Yer lookin’ t’ be doin’ 
right wal with yer young’un.”
        How changed she is since last winter, I thought.  She actually looks 
happy.  “Yes, the baby and I are doing just fine.  But how are you, 
Swannie?”
        “Right as rain,” Swannie replied.  “Got a letter yesterday---Orter Ball 
writ hit.  They’s a-doin’ awright workin’.  But he said Mountie’s done 
got herself a cough.”
        “Oh,” I murmured, a bit alarmed.  “I hope she’s all right.”
        “Orter said hit ain’t nothin’ much---just a little cough now an’ agin,” 
the woman answered.  “Wal, hit shorely is good t’ see ye out’n about, 
Miz Christy.  Cum visitin’ sometime, if’n ye kin.”
        “I will, Swannie,” I waved.  “Take care.”

        “Teacher!  Teacher!”  the voice called over and over.  “Teacher!”
        I tried to answer the voice, but I couldn’t; my lips would not form the 
words.  Wildly, I turned to see who it was that was calling me, but 
everything was hazy, dark grey mist, melting into blackness.  And I 
couldn’t tell from which direction the voice was coming.
        “Teacher!  Teacher!   Oh, Teacher!”
        “C-coming---” my tongue loosened enough for me to whisper.  I flailed 
my arms about so that I would not run into anything as I looked for the 
owner of the voice.  
        “Teacher!”
        “I’m coming!”  I yelled, and my voice echoed in the emptiness.  “I’m 
coming!  I’ll be right there!  I’m coming!”
        Someone was shaking me, firmly gripping my shoulders.  “Christy!”
        I struggled to free myself from the hands that grasped me, but they 
were too strong.  
        “Christy, wake up, love!  You’re dreaming!”
        I opened my eyes.  Neil was leaning over me.  I felt my heart pounding, 
and I was breathing heavily, as though I had been running.
        “It---it was just a dream?”
        “Yes,” Neil replied, stroking my hair.  “But from the way you were 
screaming and thrashing about, it might have been closer to a 
nightmare.”
        “No,” I said, reflecting on my dream.  “It wasn’t a nightmare.  I---I 
don’t know what it was.  Someone was just saying, ‘Teacher, teacher,’ 
over and over . . .”
        My husband smiled and kissed me gently.  “Well, school’s certainly been 
on your mind lately.  I’m glad that’s all it was.”
        “Yes,” I murmured absently as Neil lay back down beside me.  I didn’t 
say anything, but I knew that my dream was not about school.  And for 
the rest of the night, I could not sleep for trying to figure out what 
it was about.

**********************************************************************
Chapter:  Thirty-seven
Summary:  I can't tell! :)


"The Joy of the Children", Chapter Thirty-seven:

I WAS CONFINED to the cabin by the third week in April, due to the 
rapidly increasing size of my baby.  It was impossible for me to ride 
Charlie with Neil, because I could neither mount nor dismount, even with 
my husband’s  help, and the saddle was not  the least bit comfortable.  
Though I missed my busy, active lifestyle and being able to attend 
church, I was not lonely or unhappy, for friends stopped by every day 
when they could spare a minute from their work.  Miss Alice and Cecile 
chatted and helped me around the house; several times a week, Opal and 
the other women brought a meal for Neil and me.  And of course, the 
children came, bright and shining as always, blessing me with their 
innocent, faithful love, often leaving me doubled over with laughter at 
their antics and  speeches.
        Neil was home, too, hard at work building a new room onto our cabin.  
It was a windowless room with a door connecting it to his laboratory.  
When the addition was completed, he would move his lab equipment into 
it, and the laboratory would become our bedroom.
        “Think about all the merits of adding this new room onto the cabin, 
Christy,” Neil had said before he started the project.  “You won’t have 
to go up and down those stairs in the later stages of your pregnancy, 
and you won’t have to carry the baby up there, either.  The laboratory 
is bigger than our room, it’s warmer downstairs, and the locked room 
won’t be obvious if the door to it is in our bedroom.”
        I nearly laughed at how he was trying to persuade me to agree to his 
suggestion---as if I would object!  But I only smiled, told him it was a 
wonderful idea, kissed him and said, “I’m so glad I’m married to you!”
        While Neil worked on the cabin, I engaged myself in gardening.  Neil 
had fashioned dark green-painted flower boxes under all the windows, and 
he had ordered me rosebushes and all sorts of bulbs from a catalog.  I 
was thrilled, and I spent hours outside planting my flowers and tending 
them through the spring.  
        However, June finally came, and by then, I was more than ready for my 
baby to be born.  I was tired; my body ached all over; simple tasks such 
as walking, sitting down, and standing up had become extremely 
difficult.  I had never been one to let others dote on me, but I did not 
protest when Neil brought me breakfast in bed, made me relax in long, 
hot baths, massaged my stiff shoulders and back . . . 
        One night, I was sitting on our bed, staring absently out the window, 
when Neil sat behind me and began brushing my long hair.  I sighed 
deeply and relaxed against him.
        “Do all husbands do sweet things like this?”
        “Like brushing their wives’ hair?  Not around here.  You’re lucky if 
the Cove women brush their own hair.”
        “Neil, that’s terrible!” I cried, turning to face him.  But we both 
laughed.  
        A minute or two later, Neil was still brushing my hair, when he 
commented, “It will be any day now, lass.  Are you ready?”
        “I guess we’ll find out, won’t we?” I replied a bit nervously.  “I 
think I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.”
        “The delivery will be all right,” Neil said, understanding my meaning.  
“Alice knows how to deliver babies, and I’ll be nearby in case anything 
unexpected happens.  And I have every confidence in you.”
        I made no comment, but I was a bit annoyed.  Recently, when Neil had 
made an off-hand comment about how convenient it was for pregnant women 
to be married to doctors, Miss Alice had made it known that it would not 
be necessary for Neil to be present during the delivery. 
        “I shall assist thy wife, and I will call on thee if I need help, 
Doctor,” she had said in a commanding manner not even Neil would argue 
with.  
        Still, I secretly disapproved of the arrangement.  It wasn’t that I 
didn’t trust the Quaker lady; I just wanted my husband with me.  It 
would not at all be considered“proper”, but Neil’s presence always 
calmed me and gave me strength. 
        “I wish I could go with you to El Pano tomorrow to meet Mother and 
Daddy and George.”
        “I know, Christy, but you would be miserable on the way there and 
back.”
        “I’m glad they’re all coming.”  Mother had sent word that my father 
would not have it any other way but to be present for the birth of his 
first grandchild, and since no one knew exactly when the birth would be, 
he was taking a few weeks’ vacation in June to ensure that he wouldn’t 
miss it.  “Daddy’s absolutely thrilled about the baby.”
        Neil kissed me on the nape of my neck and replied happily, “Aren’t we 
all!”


“TIMING is everything,” Mother had always said, and I fully agreed with 
her the next afternoon.  
        My family (and Aunt Hattie, whom Neil had stopped for on the way home) 
had not been at our cabin for more then half an hour when the first 
pangs of labor came upon me. I gripped Neil’s hand until my knuckles 
turned white.
        “Neil,” I managed to say through clenched teeth.  “I think it’s time.”
        A long, agonizing, and even terrifying three hours later, a shrill cry 
pierced the air.  My baby was born!  I fell back on my pillows, 
forgetting my toil and sweat, an overwhelming joy washing over me.
        “You were right, Christy!  Thy child is a boy!” cried Miss Alice, 
washing off the baby.
        “A boy!” I repeated breathlessly.  
        “A big boy,” Miss Alice added.  “Twenty-three inches long and 
nine-and-a-half pounds!”
        “Dear Lord,” I murmured, falling back on my pillows.  “No wonder . . .”
        Before I could speak---or even think---my baby was placed in my arms, 
and Miss Alice went to the door and called for Neil.  As he stood in the 
doorway, staring at me, I saw that my husband’s face was ashen, his hair 
more disheveled than ever.
        “Dear,” I asked sweetly.  “You weren’t worried, were you?”
        He grinned wryly.  “I’ll admit it, lass; I’ve never been more afraid in 
my entire life.  I’m so glad it’s over.”
        I laughed.  “Me, too.  Now, come over here and see your son.”
        For a long time, neither of us said anything.  We were completely 
overcome by the squirming, red-faced infant that had just come into the 
world, into our lives.  My baby!  How thrilled I was to at last be able 
to touch him, to hold him!  I kissed his tiny hands and feet with their 
perfect fingers and toes, his face, with the wisps of sandy-red 
eyelashes and eyebrows, the soft, red curls that covered his head . . . 
He was definitely his father’s child!  Then he yawned and opened wide 
his big, blue eyes.  
        “Oh, Neil,” I whispered, through tears of joy.  “He’s so beautiful!  
He’s ours!”
        “He’s a wonderful lad!” cried the happy father, gazing intently at me.  
“And his mother is also wonderful!”   He dropped a gentle kiss onto my 
lips.
        Though neither of us said so, I knew that Neil and I felt the same 
thing: together, we had brought brought forth a child---he and 
I---together!  And that caused an even deeper, more tender love than I 
already had for Neil to blossom inside me, to the deapths of my soul.

        There was a knock at the door, and Miss Alice poked her head in.  “May 
the anxious grandparents come in now?  Thy father is about to lose his 
mind, Christy.”
        I laughed. “Does he look like Neil did?”  
        “Worse, I think,” replied the Quaker lady.
        “You should have heard him, lass,” Neil added.  “He paced the room the 
entire time you were in labor, saying, ‘My Girlie, my Girlie’!”
        “Yes, tell them to come see their grandson,” I said.  “Oh, and Miss 
Alice?  Do you remember when you asked me why I came to the Cove?  I 
told you I wanted my life to count for something more than getting 
married and having babies.”  My heart was overflowing with love as I 
gazed at my husband and son.  “I spoke out of ignorance.”
        
        Later, after everyone had  gone to the mission house for the night, 
Neil and I were alone with our baby.  I lay on my side watching Neil, 
who was holding him in his large, strong hands, completely enthralled 
with his son.     
        “You know, Neil,” I said, “we need to give him a name.”
        “You’re right,” he replied, staring into space as he thought.  “How 
about Charles Edward, after the Bonnie Prince?”
        I wrinkled my nose, and Neil looked at me in confusion.
        “What’s wrong with that?”
        “Neil, you named your horse Charlie.  I refuse give my son the same 
name as your horse, no matter who the horse was named after.”
        Neil gave a hearty laugh.  “Well then, do you have any names in mind?”
        “I want to name him Neil---after his great ancestor.”
        “Ah, lad,” my husband said to the baby.  “Someday I will tell you the 
story of Neil MacNeill of Barra, and you will be as proud as I to be 
named for him. ”
        “But I wanted to name him after you,” I remarked.
        “You do?”
        I nodded, and Neil smiled. “I do love you, lass!”  He kissed me, then 
asked, “Can I pick his middle name?”
        “As long as it’s not Charlie.”
        Neil rolled his eyes and said, “My professor, Starr Gatlin was one of 
the most influential men in my life.  I owe him so much . . . What do 
you think of Neil Gatlin?”
        “Neil Gatlin MacNeill,” I repeated, then I added, in my best Scottish 
brogue, “A fine Scottish name for your red-headed bairn!”
        Delighted, my husband gave me another kiss, then returned his attention 
to Neil, crooning to him nonsensically.
I looked on blissfully, in awe of how tiny my  baby looked in his 
father’s arms and how utterly fascinated Neil was by the baby he held.  
He could not take his eyes off his son! 
        I lay musing for a few moments, then the baby began to cry.  
        “Here, Christy,” said Neil, handing him to me.  “I think he’s hungry, 
and I certainly can’t help him there.”
        I nursed my son, and watched him grow drowsy in his contentment.  
        “Good night, little love,” I whispered, kissing his fine curls, laying 
him in the bassinet.  And the minute I lay back down, resting 
comfortably in Neil’s arms, I closed my eyes and fell into peaceful 
slumber.

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

Chapter: Thirty-eight
Summary:  Aw, let's not spoil it.  :)

"The Joy of the Children", Chapter Thirty-eight:

“TEACHER!”  
        “I’m coming!” I cried, running towards a misty grey light in the midst 
of the blackness.
        “Teacher, teacher holp me!  Teeeaach-eeeerrr!”
        “I’m coming!  Hold on, I’ll be right there!”
        The voice wailed and wailed, howling like the wind.  I ran faster and 
faster, stumbling over branches in the path.    “Oh!”   I cried out in 
desperation, sinking to my knees.  “Mountie!”  At last I recognized the 
voice.  “I can’t find you!  Where are you?”
        “Teacher!  Miz Christy!”
        Suddenly, a veil was lifted from my eyes, and I saw Mountie, lying on a 
filthy pallet in a filthy room.  She was coughing, her body wracked with 
painful spasms.  On her threadbare blanket were patches of dried blood.  
        “Mountie!”  I reached for her, and she began to cry.  But it was not 
her cry; it was a baby’s cry . . . My baby!
        I found myself sitting up in bed.   It was just a dream, as it had been 
before.  Only it was so much worse . . . Mountie . . . 
        Neil was lighting a lamp on the bedside table.  “Not used to waking up 
to that,” he grinned.
         Pushing the haunting phantoms out of my head, I picked Neil up out of 
his cradle and consoled him. 
        “Mommy’s here, little one,” I crooned.  “Don’t cry, love, it’s all 
right.”
        

MOUNTIE was still coughing, and I held her, wishing I could do something 
for her.  She was bleeding, crying, in so much pain . . . I wanted to 
take away her pain, but there was nothing I could do.  I watched her 
grow pale and limp, the life ebbing away from her.  
        After what seemed like hours, the little girl grew very still.  She 
stopped coughing.  Her eyes dropped shut.
        “MOUNTIE!”  I screamed in anguish.  “Mountie, don’t leave!”
        Instantly, a glow crept across her dirty face, only I noticed it was 
not dirty any more.  The tear stains were still there, but they sparkled 
as an intense light was reflected in them.  I watched breathlessly as 
her gorgeous blue eyes fluttered open.  She was as light as air, and as 
she stood up, her movement was like a feather brushing across my arm.  
        “Buttons!  See my pretty buttons, Teacher?” she cried with a brilliant 
smile, then skipped away.  
        “Mountie!”  I followed her, but I could not move as quickly as she 
could.  The little girl seemed to be floating.  I was panting, and my 
pace was slowing.  I fell down in the path and watched as Mountie 
disappeared into the sunrise, the echoes of her laughter dying out.  I 
lay down.  “Mountie,” I murmured, peacefully.  “Goodbye, Mountie.  
Goodbye.”
        “Teacher, teacher, why ye be sleepin’ on th’ floor?”
        I opened my eyes and brushed the hair out of my face.  
        “What?” I asked, peering up into the inquisitive faces of my students.  
        “Hit’s time fer recess, Teacher,” said Creed Allen.  “Don’t go t’ 
sleep.  Cum play with us, Teacher.”
        I felt myself being prodded, pulled, pushed into the schoolyard.  It 
was a beautiful day, a glorious day!  I ran around the yard with the 
children.  We were laughing and calling out to one another.  
        “Cain’t cotch me, Teacher,” taunted Zacharias Holt.
        “Nor me, neither,” added his brother Dicle.
        “Nor me, nor me,” a chorus of voices joined in.  “Nor me, nor me!”
        “Yes I can!” I laughed.  
        I ran after the children, but they always managed to elude me.  I 
almost caught Little Burl!  There was Zady Spencer; I would catch her.  
But no, she got away, too.  I was getting tired, dizzy . . . I was 
running in circles, and I couldn’t stop.  A loud crash from across the 
yard startled me.
        “Smith O’Teale!”  I called out to a gaunt figure standing with the 
shards of a broken moonshine jug all around his bare feet.  “Are you 
drinking moonshine?”  I marched over to the tall boy, only he was not 
the boy I knew.  His face was covered with a scraggly beard, and his 
eyes were menacing.  Undaunted, I asked, “What did I tell you about 
moonshine, Smith?  What has Reverend Grantland told you?  And Miss Alice 
. . .”
        Smith jerked free of my grasp and spit a stream of tobacco from between 
his rotten teeth.  “Disremember,” he mocked.  “Mebbe that hit were th’ 
devil’s brew?  Kind o’ like th’ devil myself!”  
        Suddenly terrified, I turned on my heal and ran down the hill into the 
woods.  Smith tore after me and quickly caught me.  He grabbed my arms 
and shook me.  “Let me be, y’hear?  Let us highlanders alone!”
        I screamed.  Men were surrounding me, men I didn’t know.  They were 
dirty---oh, so dirty---and they reeked of moonshine.  Most of them had 
their brown jugs in hand.  
        “Help!  Help!”  I shrieked.  “Help me!”
        The men’s eyes grew wide for a moment, then they silently shrank back 
into the trees.  Only one person remained:  Orter Ball O’Teale.  
        “Howdy, Miz Christy!” he greeted.  “Hain’t seen ye’n ages.”
        “It’s good to see you,” I said.  My lord, Orter Ball was a young man 
now.  He was tanned and muscular, as if he had been working out in the 
sun.  And his face glowed with an ethereal light.  
        “I been talkin’ t’ God a lot, Miz Christy.  He’s a Father all right, 
jest like ye said.”
        He turned and started to walk away.  
        “Orter, what about Smith?” I called after him.
        The young man did not stop walking, but he called out, “We jest got t’ 
keep prayin’.  Always pray fer th’ Cove, Miz Christy.  Th’ Lord’s our 
Father.  We’ve jest got t’ tell Him ’bout our troubles.”
        Orter, too disappeared, and I knelt down in the woods and prayed.  
Again, peace washed over me.
        Hoof beats . . . A deep, rich laugh echoed in the woods.  I stood up 
and smoothed out my skirt and eagerly watched the rider charge up the 
path.   It was Neil! 
        “Christy, love!” he called, reaching down for me.  “We’ve got to go 
home to the children!”
        The children!  I had forgotten!  How could I forget my children?
        My husband and I rode through the woods as swiftly as the wind blew in 
the mountain heights.  I clung to him, relishing the feel of his strong, 
broad back pressed against me.  
        The ride ended too soon.  It seemed like only a few seconds had passed, 
but we were home now.  Neil dropped from Charlie’s back and reached up 
for me.  
        “Careful, lass,” he said.  
        That’s right, I thought.  The baby’s coming soon, and I must be 
careful.  But I had already had the baby!  I looked down and saw that my 
belly was swollen.  Yes, I was pregnant.  It must have just slipped my 
mind.  So much had happened lately . . .
        Neil was gazing lovingly at me, caressing my cheek with his work-worn 
fingers.  Then he bent over me and kissed me over and over.  I didn’t 
want him to stop.  I loved him so . . .
        “Momma!  Daddy!  Come play!”
        I pulled away from my husband and saw three rosy-cheeked children 
running towards us, breathless from exertion and laughter.  
        “Hello, my fair one!” Neil cried, sweeping our little girl into his 
strong arms.  She squealed with delight.  
        “Higher, Daddy!”  Her sweet, childish lisp mingled with laughter as 
Neil tossed her into the air and caught her again.  “Higher!”
        All of us were laughing, me especially, as I watched my husband and 
children.  I was filled with overwhelming joy!  Oh, my wonderful 
husband!  My beautiful children!  
        No, no, they were fading into the distance . . . their laughter was 
dying away.  That cry again . . .
        

“CHRISTY, LOVE, wake up.”  Neil’s gentle brogue tickled my ear, and I 
opened my eyes.  
        I smiled up at him.  “Is it morning already?”
        “No, lass.  Neil’s hungry again.”
        “Oh, yes,” I replied, finally coming back to reality.  
        As I nursed my son, Neil looked on and said, “I don’t know how you 
slept through his cries!  Our lad certainly has a healthy pair of 
lungs---and a healthy stomach!”
        I gave a small laugh, then replied, “Neil, I was having the strangest 
dream.  It was terrible sometimes, but there was something so beautiful 
about it, too.  And do you know what?”
        “What, love?” Neil asked softly, stroking my cheek with the back of 
his hand.
        “No matter what happens, God is always our Father!  He is Peace and He 
is Joy!”  
        Neil was staring at me with a look of such rapturous love and 
admiration, I grew more and more excited.  
        “Neil, He has given me the joy of the children!”
        
THE END
**********************************************************************