*****************
Disclaimer:  The story and characters are the property
of the LeSourd family and others.  This work of fan
fiction is for personal amusement only and is not
intended to infringe on those rights.  The writer
seeks no profit or credit from this story.  Any
additions to characters or story line were invented by
the writer.
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Title:  On a Lighter Note
Author:  Greer        
***************************

Chapter 1


        Marriage.  My breath caught in my throat.  It
wasn’t the word I expected.  Not now, not from him.  

        I stood on the bottom step of the schoolhouse, he a
few feet in front of me on the grass.  He’d approached
me at the end of the school day, on my way back to the
mission, and asked to speak with me.  That itself was
strange – he usually didn’t say much.  But he’d been
edgy all day and now there was a purpose in his manner
that I’d rarely seen.  

        I squinted into the afternoon sun.  “Are you sure?” 
My response was weak, but it was all I could manage. 
I’d been caught by surprise and it showed.

        “Yes, ma’am,” John Spencer answered.  “Bessie and me
been thinking 'bout it for quite a spell.  We know
it’s right.”

        John and Bessie.  I shouldn’t have been surprised. 
They’d been courting almost from the moment I arrived
in Cutter Gap and time had only seemed to strengthen
their relationship.  Even so, I couldn’t imagine them
married.  John was sixteen and Bessie not even that.  

        The sincerity in his tone made me smile and wince at
the same time.  John managed to sound both wise beyond
his years and young as a small child.  I wanted to
tell him the truth – that he and Bessie were too
young.  They needed to learn more, more in school,
more about life outside Cutter Gap, more about love
and life itself.  They couldn’t give up all their
hopes and dreams for a life no different than their
parents and grandparents.

        John looked down at me, awaiting my response.  I had
to say something.  “Of course, I wish you the best.” 
For the first time, I noticed Bessie hovering on the
edge of the trees, looking younger and more innocent
than ever.  “Both of you.”  I forced a smile.  “What
will the two of you do, after you’re -- married?”  I
struggled to speak the word.

        John’s look was triumphant.  “I'm getting me a job.”

        “Oh?”  

        “I’m gonna be a miner,” John said.  “A man can make
real money working coal.  The mines ain’t far from
here neither.  Won’t be no trouble to visit.”

        My despair increased.  I knew little about life in
the coal mines except that it was dirty and dangerous.
 Did John have any idea what he was getting into?  He
and Bessie would move away – away from Cutter Gap and
away from their families.  I wondered what Fairlight
thought about her eldest son leaving the Cove.

        John swallowed hard.  “We'd be mighty pleased to have
your blessing, Miz Christy.”  

        He desperately wanted my approval.  I glanced toward
the mission, hoping to spy David or Miss Alice –
anyone to save me from this predicament.  I didn’t
know how to answer.  John was so happy and I wanted to
share in that joy.  I wanted to tell him that I was
thrilled he was getting married and excited about his
new job.  Yet, the only clear thought in my mind was
that all of my teaching hadn't done one thing to
improve this couple's future.  I would lose two of my
students.  John would do physical labor and Bessie
would stay home and raise his children.  Not the worst
fate, but a fate no different than they would have had
before my arrival in the Cove.  

        Bessie walked toward us until she stood next to her
future husband.  I watched a squirrel sprint down a
nearby tree and across the grass then forced my gaze
back to my students.  “John, I’m so happy for you," I
said.  "For both of you."  I couldn't resist a peek
skyward and silently asked God to forgive me for this
small lie.  

        John didn’t seem to notice my actions as he shared a
smile with Bessie.  “Thank you, Miz Christy.”
  
        I fought for composure.  “When will you be getting
married?”

        “I reckon next month sometime.  Ain’t talked to the
Preacher yet but we was hoping he’d marry us.”  

        “You’ll be there, won’t you Miz Christy?” Bessie
asked.

        I smiled.  “Of course I will.  I wouldn’t miss it.” 
Even as my lips mouthed my answer, my only thought was
that I had less than a month to change their minds. 
And I knew just who could help me.


Chapter 2


What do you mean, let it alone?” I asked.

        The minute John and Bessie had left the school
grounds, I’d run for the stable.  Without even
bothering to saddle Theo, I’d ridden him the short
distance to Dr. MacNeill’s cabin.  I had to do
something about the impending marriage and Neil was
the one person who could help.  David and Miss Alice
could be persuasive, but the only man who might change
John Spencer’s mind was Neil MacNeill.

        I found the Doctor at home and explained the
situation as quickly as possible.  He'd listened
patiently and then he refused to help.

        “John and Bessie have the right to make their own
decision.”  Neil stood at the room's only table, his
arms plunged into a large metal basin filled to his
elbows with soapy water.  One side of the table was
littered with soiled beakers, tubes, and syringes and
the other lined with neatly stacked and freshly
scrubbed equipment.  

        “But they’re so young.”  I must have said this five
times since I entered the cabin.  

        “I know they seem young to you.  But they’re not
young for these mountains.  I needn’t tell you that
most mountain folk marry well before your age,
Christy.  My own parents were not even seventeen.”

        Sometimes I almost forgot that Neil had been raised
in these mountains, in this very cabin.  Still, he’d
moved beyond Cutter Gap and that was something I
wanted for my students.  “But you waited to marry.”

        The words were barely out of my mouth when I realized
their implication.  I immediately wished I could have
them back.  

        “I waited."  His voice interrupted my thoughts.  "But
as you know, my marriage was anything but a success.” 
He picked up a set of tongs and pulled sterilized
objects from the boiling water.  

        “Neil, I didn’t mean—“  I again chastised myself for
bringing up his failed marriage to  Margaret.  “I only
meant that you’d succeeded as a doctor, that waiting
to get married allowed you to . . . .”  I allowed my
voice to trail off.  This conversation was going
nowhere.

        Despite my bumbling, Neil seemed to relax slightly. 
“I’m sorry, Christy.  I shouldn’t have sniped at you."
 He gave me a weak smile.  "You’re not responsible for
my problems with Margaret.”  He crossed to the stove
and gently dropped several of the clean instruments
into a steaming pot.  It felt like many minutes passed
before he turned again to face me.  “I don’t know that
I made a choice not to marry as a boy,” he said
finally.  His thoughts appeared to be elsewhere.  “I
was so busy with my studies and my chores, I had
little time to court young girls.”  

        I tried to picture a young Neil pouring over books,
harvesting crops, and chasing after girls his age.  No
image came to mind.  For a moment, we both stood
there, neither of us certain of what to say next.  

        Neil returned to his washing.  I looked for some way
to help but he appeared to have the task well in hand.
 Finally, he broke the silence.  “I understand your
concern about John and Bessie.  I know that you want
them to stay in school and maybe even go to college. 
But you must ask yourself what they want.”

        I started to reply but he raised his soapy hand to
silence me.  “No, let me finish.  I made it through
college and medical school only because it was what I
wanted.  It was my dream.  And I’ll tell you, Christy,
in those long days so far from home, it was all that
sustained me.  John and Bessie have a different
dream.”

        “But they’re still children.  How can they know what
they want?”

        “You were only a bit older when you decided to come
here.”

        “That’s different.”

        “Why?  Because you came from the big city?”

        “No.  Because I’d seen the world.  I’d been to
college—“

        “Is that what’s it’s all about for you, Christy? 
College?  Is that your only measure of success?”  He
banged a freshly washed beaker onto the table and I
nearly jumped at the sound.  

        “Of course not.”  I thought about Rob Allen and how
I'd nearly forced him to attend college.  There were
times I wished he'd followed his dream – or was it my
dream?  Even so, I had few regrets about how his life
turned out and knew he had fewer still.

        “What then?”

        “I want to make a difference in their lives.”

        “And how do you define difference?”  The beaker Neil
was drying slipped from his hands and rolled across
the table.  I clamped down on it only inches from the
edge and handed it back to him.  Our fingers touched. 
"Thank you," he mumbled, taking the glass from me.

        I stepped back from the table.  “I want my students
to grow spiritually and morally.  I want them to see
God’s role in their lives and learn that feuding isn’t
the answer.”

        He waited for me to continue.

        “And I want to give them the opportunity – the
education -- to go beyond Cutter Gap – to learn more,
to do more with their lives.”

        “Have you not done that with John and Bessie?”

        “Yes, but—“

        “But, they still want to marry and live in the
mountains, like their parents and grandparents.  Why
can’t you accept that, Christy?

        “They’re young, have little education, no money. 
What kind of future is that?”

        “It’s their future, not yours.”  

        I wanted so much for my students and it pained me to
see that he didn’t seem to share my lofty visions.  “I
thought you of all people would understand.”    

        “I do understand.  I understand that John and Bessie
have made a decision.  They have a mother and father. 
It’s their place to guide their children.  Not yours. 
And certainly not mine.”

        “Well, if that’s how you feel, I’m sorry I mentioned
it.”  I turned on my heel and fled the house wondering
if my comment had sounded as childish to Neil as it
had to me.  As I mounted Theo, I forced myself not to
look back.

Chapter 3 



        David waited for me at the door of the mission. 
"Christy, thank goodness you're back.  Where have you
been?  I saw you in the yard after school and then you
were gone.  It was starting to get dark--"  

        I pushed past him into the main room and headed for
the kitchen.  I didn't want to explain my afternoon
journey to David.  "I had to run an errand."  My
attention was drawn to a large box on the dining room
table.  "What's this?"  It was rare for the mission to
receive packages and its presence allowed me easily to
change the subject with David.  The box turned out to
be a crate, at least two feet long, over a foot wide,
and well over a foot tall.  

        "I thought you might know."  David spoke from behind
me.  "It's addressed to you."

        "Me?"

        "Something from your parents maybe?  Or the church?" 


        I slowly circled the table, examining the crate from
all sides.  It definitely was addressed to me but I
didn't recognize the handwriting.  There was no return
address.  It was certainly not from my parents and I
hoped it hadn't come from my home church in Asheville.
 I wasn't prepared for another battle with Dr. Ferrand
over donations.  "I don't know," I said.  "Don't think
so."

        "Aren't you going to open it?"  

        "Of course."  

        "Here, let me help you."  David magically produced
several tools and pried open the crate.  I smiled at
his eagerness; it seemed David was more interested in
the contents of the box than I was.  I tried to assist
but seemed only to get in the way.  

        Once he'd removed the top, he stood back.  "Go ahead,
see what's inside."

        Whatever was in the box had been carefully packed.  I
felt David's breath over my shoulder as I removed the
packing until a leather case came into view.  

        "Keep going," David said.

        It took me only an instant to uncover the crate's
contents.  I gingerly lifted the item from the box and
held it over the table.  It was a violin case.  I
carefully opened the latch and gave David a
questioning look.  "Who would have sent this?"  Again
I searched the outer wrapping for some sign of a
return address.

        David took the instrument from me and turned it over
in his hands.  "It's a nice one.  Quite old too, I'd
say."  He ran his fingers along the wood.  "It's in
wonderful condition, considering its age."  He placed
the violin on his shoulder, took the bow and scratched
it across the strings.  An odd, off-tune wail was the
only result.  "Guess I need a little practice," he
said, quickly returning the instrument to both hands.

        While David spoke, I continued rifling through the
remaining contents of the box, hoping to find a note,
letter, or some means of identifying the violin's
owner.  I found the violin's bow but came up with
nothing else but more paper and cotton.  I sighed in
frustration.  

        "Why do you think someone sent this to me?" I asked. 
"I don't know the first thing about playing the
violin."

        "I don't know, but it was certainly sent to you." 
David stared at the carefully printed address on the
top of the crate.  He handed the violin back to me. 
"What do you plan to do with it?"

        I looked at the instrument more closely.  David was
right – it was beautiful.  Even I could see the highly
polished deep wood grains.  I had no doubt that the
violin's owner had lovingly cared for it.  "I don't
know what to do with it.  I suppose I should find
someone who can play it.  Maybe Jeb."

        David nodded.  "He's as likely as anyone."  He
started to stuff the packing material back into the
crate.  "I suppose you could always sell it.  It would
fetch a fair price in Asheville and the mission could
certainly use the funds.

        I shook my head and gently set the violin on the
dining room table.  "No," I said slowly.  "I don't
know who sent this to me or why, but I just have the
feeling that I'm supposed to keep it."

****

        I stood up from my chair and looked around my
classroom.  Conversation buzzed around me as my
students clambered into their seats, boys on one side
and girls on the other.  Mentally, I took attendance
and was surprised that John and Bessie continued to
come to school.  Their wedding was three weeks away
and would certainly be the major spring event for the
Cove.  

        I hadn’t seen Neil since the argument at his cabin. 
I knew from the children that he’d made a trip to
Raven Gap but that he had generally been in the Cove. 
It hurt me that he’d stayed away so long.  

        No one seemed to share my views about John and
Bessie's marriage.  Miss Alice and David had both
listened patiently to my concerns but had insisted
that the decision rested with John and Bessie – and
their parents.  I'd still not had a chance to discuss
the issue with Fairlight and hoped to do so before the
week was out – and before it was too late.

        I'd also made little progress with my violin.  I'd
showed it to Jeb when he'd stopped by the mission to
deliver some honey.  He confirmed David's impression
that the piece was old, expensive, and well-cared for.
 He found the violin surprisingly in tune and had
played a local favorite before handing it back to me. 


        "I want you to have it," I'd said.

        He refused, claiming he couldn't accept such a fine
gift.  

        "But you're the only one in the Cove who can play
it," I insisted.

        Jeb was equally adamant.  "I reckon you'll find
someone else, Miz Christy."  And so I'd brought the
violin to class each, hoping that Jeb would come and
play it for my students, so it would at least get some
use.  But this had yet to happen so the violin sat on
a table at the front of the room, unused and unplayed.
 

        I loudly cleared my throat and the children’s voices
slowly died.  My gaze focused on the middle of the
boys’ section.  Once again, Isaak McHone was missing. 
This was the third day in the past two weeks.  His
brother Toot was here, studiously avoiding my eyes.

        “Toot,” I called out.  “Where’s Isaak?”

        “Don’t know, ma’am,” he replied in a tone that
suggested he knew exactly where his brother might be.

        “Is he at home?”

        “No ma’am.”

        “Well, if you know he’s not at home, then you must
know where he is.”

        Toot gave me a pleading look and I decided to drop
the subject.  If Toot did know his brother's
whereabouts, I wouldn’t learn anything by berating him
in front of his friends.  I’d have to speak to him
after class and, if the absences continued, pay a
visit to Opal.

        “All right, everyone get out the arithmetic lesson I
gave you yesterday.”  After the shuffling of paper had
stopped, I surveyed my students.  Some, like Zady
Spencer, looked eager to be called upon.  Others
studied their desks or feet in the hope I wouldn’t
notice them.

        “Zady, why don’t you start our recitation.  You can
do the first problem.”  After my talk with Miss Alice
last fall, I was particularly sensitive to giving
equal time to my female students.  And I knew Zady
would answer correctly and get my lesson off to a good
start.”  I’d given the older children several long
division problems.  Zady approached the blackboard
with confidence and quickly diagrammed the first
solution.  

        I nodded approvingly.  “Very good, Zady.  Absolutely
correct.”  I looked around the back of the room where
my older students were seated.  “Does anyone have any
questions?”  Seeing no hands, I selected another
student.  “Orter Ball, you may do the next one.”

        The boy slunk into his seat, his eyes refusing to
meet mine.  “Orter Ball,” I repeated.  “Please come up
and do problem number two – 534 divided by six.” 
Again, I received no response.  I crossed my arms over
my chest.  “The class is waiting.”

        “I ain’t prepared.”

        “You’re what?”

        “I ain’t done my homework,” he said.

        “Why not?”

        Orter Ball seemed to dip lower in his seat.  “Just
didn’t.”

        I took a deep breath and fought to control my anger. 
Today wasn’t the first time this had happened.  Nearly
every day I’d called on Orter Ball in the past few
weeks I’d found him unprepared.  At first I’d
attributed it to responsibilities at home.  Without a
father and with his brother Smith gone, Orter Ball was
often forced to become the “man of the house.”  But
the situation hadn’t improved and neither had the
boy’s attitude.

        “You may see me after class, Orter Ball.”  That
comment drew a number of catcalls and hisses from the
other students.  I turned toward the girls.  “Bessie,
could you help us with problem two?”

        Thankfully, she’d prepared the lesson, though she had
more difficulty with the problem than Zady.  Somehow,
I managed to stumble through the remainder of
arithmetic and reading before taking the morning
recess.  

        I watched the children dashed into the sunlight.  I
longed to pull Toot aside to learn more about Isaak,
but realized I first needed to deal with the morning’s
problem child.  Orter Ball remained slouched against
his seat, a sullen expression on his face, which only
increased my frustration.  Nonetheless, I fought my
emotion.  I knew only too well that there could be
many reasons for children not being prepared for class
and becoming angry before I'd received an explanation
wouldn't help.  I waited until the last of the
children had cleared the room before beginning to
speak.

        “This isn’t the first time this week you’ve been
unprepared."  I kept my tone light.  "Is something the
matter?  Something at home?”

        “No, ma’am.”

        “You’ve always been prepared for your lessons before.
 What’s happened?”

        The boy shrugged.  “Nothing.  Just didn’t get to my
lessons.”

        I didn't believe him.  Swannie was chronically
overworked, caring for five children without a husband
at home.  I could only imagine the number of task that
fell to Orter Ball.  Swannie wanted her children to
receive an education but occasionally forgot that she
needed to give them time to learn.  “Are you too busy
at home?  Maybe I should talk to your mother—“

        “I said it was nothing.”  He glanced outside.  “Can I
go now?”

        I would get nowhere with him.  At the same time,
however, I could not ignore his actions.  “I think you
should stay after school today," I said in a calm
voice.  "Perhaps you could work on your lesson then.” 
I was pleased with my decision.  If Orter Ball didn't
have enough time after school to prepare his lesson,
the extra time during school wouldn't hurt.  And if
he'd simply decided not to study at home, then the
punishment of missing recess might encourage him to do
better tonight.

        For a moment, Orter Ball continued to stare outside. 
Finally, he turned to face me, defiance etched in his
features.  “I don’t want to do lessons.  I got other
things to do.  I come to school every day.  Ain’t that
enough?”

        “Coming to school is important, yes.  But I can’t
teach you everything here.  You need to practice what
you learn in school every day at home.”

        “What good’s it gonna do me, all this learning?  I
ain’t never going to be no doctor like Doc MacNeill. 
I ain’t smart enough.  Ain’t even as smart as Zady and
she’s a girl.”  Orter Ball pushed aside the bench and
strode from the room.

        “Orter Ball, wait!”  I almost screamed to be heard
over the screech of my students playing in the school
yard.  But the boy was already at the edge of the
field.  He wasn’t coming back, at least not today.

Chapter 4

 “Miss Alice, I don’t know what’s wrong.”  I
sat at the dinner table, picking at the cornbread she
had placed in front of me.  We were alone at the
table.  David was still in Low Gap and Ruby Mae was in
the kitchen cleaning up from dinner.  “Isaak won’t
come to school and Orter Ball won’t do his lessons. 
Creed’s been acting up more than usual and I don’t
even have time to pay attention to Zady and the
others—“

        “Whoa, Miss Huddleston."  Miss Alice raised her hand,
a smile playing about her face.  "Perhaps we should
address one problem at a time.”

        I gave her a weak smile.  “Of course.”  I pushed a
few crumbs of cornbread across the plate.  “My first
problem is Isaak.  He’s skipping school.  He’s missed
class three times in the past two weeks.”

        "Has he been ill?"

        "I don’t think so.  Toot says no."

        "And thee has spoken to Isaak?"

        "Of course.  Once he said he felt ill, another time
he fell into the river and was too wet to come to
school.  I don't know what his excuse will be for
missing class today."

        “Has thee spoken to Toot or Opal?”

        “Toot says the boys leave together for school every
day but swears he doesn’t know where Isaak goes.”

        “And thee believes him?”  

        “No.”  

        I waited but Miss Alice maintained her silence.  "I
should talk to Opal.  I know sometimes the children
have to stay home to do chores . . . ." 

        "It is unlike Isaak to miss school," Miss Alice said.
 "And also unlike him to lie."

        I nodded.  

        "Perhaps you should speak with Dr. MacNeill.  It is
possible that the boy is ill."

        "I—I haven't seen Dr. MacNeill since—I haven't seen
Dr. MacNeill for some time.  I hear he's been very
busy."

        "If thee does not wish to discuss the matter with Dr.
MacNeill, perhaps I should ask David to speak with
Isaak.  David seems to have quite a rapport with the
young man."  Miss Alice pushed away her plate.  “Now
what about Master O’Teale?”

        “Oh, Miss Alice, he’s become so disruptive.  He’s
never prepared for his lesson and when I confronted
him today first he was surly and then he claimed he’s
too stupid to learn.”

        “Of course thee does not believe that.”

        “Of course not.  But I don’t know what to say to him,
how to help him.”

        Miss Alice stood up from her seat.  “Perhaps there is
nothing thee can do.”

        This surprised me.  

        “Miss Huddleston, I can only guess at Orter Ball’s
problem.  He’s a boy quickly becoming a man.  He has
no father.  His family is among the least respected in
the Cove.  Yet, he cannot leave because to do so would
leave his mother and sisters without a man in the
house.”  

        "It's only gotten worse since Smith left."  Swannie
O'Teale's eldest son had left home several months ago.
 He'd claimed to be trying to find work in the city
but I suspected he believed that when he left there
would be one less mouth to feed with the limited
resources Swannie had.

        Miss Alice sighed.  “I believe Orter Ball is
challenging thee to assert his independence.”

        “What should I do?”

        “Be understanding.  Try not to show thy anger and
frustration—“

        I started to protest but she cut me off with a wave
of her hand.

        “Try not to show thy anger and frustration – no
matter how justified they may be.  In the meantime, I
will also speak to David about this situation.”  

        “Maybe I should go see Swannie?”

        Miss Alice shook her head.  “I think not.  I doubt
Orter Ball would appreciate your discussing this
situation with his mother.  And I doubt it will
improve the situation."

        “Then if I can't talk to Swannie, at least I can talk
to Fairlight about John and Bessie."

        "And what do you plan to say to Mrs. Spencer?" Miss
Alice asked.

        I want to find out what she thinks about John moving
away from the Cove."

        "I do not think John would have approached David
about performing the marriage if he did not have the
approval of his parents."

        "But she can't be happy about him leaving."

        "Her happiness may have nothing to do with it.  There
comes a day," Miss Huddleston, "when a child decides
that she can make better decisions than her parents. 
And when that day comes, there is precious little a
parent can do."

        I recognized the look that occasionally haunted Miss
Alice's eyes and knew that she was referring not to
John Spencer but to her own daughter Margaret.  I also
knew that the lapse was unintentional.  "But Fairlight
is his mother," I continued as if the subject had
never strayed from the Spencers.  "Can't she make him
understand that he's too young to get married?  That
working in the mines is dangerous.”

        “Generally I would agree that parents are best able
to counsel their children.  However, there are limits
to what anyone – even mothers – can do."  Miss Alice
headed toward the stairs, then turned.  "Consider that
Fairlight may already be in anguish.  I do not know
that your-- It is your decision, Miss Huddleston.  I
certainly cannot prevent thee from sharing your views
with Fairlight.”  She began to climb the steps.
                
        I sat at the dining room table for a few more
minutes, my mind already focusing on what I would say
to Fairlight.

****
        I was soaked to the bone, shivering and in pain,
sprawled on my side on the rocky river bed.  The
pounding rain whipped in different directions, driven
by blasts of wind.  I started to pull myself out of
the water and gasped in pain.  My shoulder hurt, my
knee hurt, my entire body hurt.  I tried again to
stand.  The water didn't even reach my knees, but my
skirt dragged in the swirling current as I fought the
strong winds.  By putting my weight on my uninjured
side and biting back the pain, I managed to stagger
toward the riverbank.  The distance couldn't have been
more than ten feet but each step seemed more difficult
than the next.  Darkness had yet to settle over the
Cove but I knew I had only a short time before I would
lose my only ally.  

        By the time I'd reached river's edge, I was too
exhausted to climb the few remaining feet out of the
riverbed.  I stepped high enough that my feet were no
longer in the water, then leaned against the muddy
ground that formed the riverbank.  I felt the mud
seeping through my skirt but didn't care.  I took
several deep breaths and reflected on what had led me
to my current state.    

        Immediately after school, I'd headed for Fairlight's
cabin.  The sky was ominously gray and the wind had
begun to pick up, but I'd been so set in my mission
that I'd ignored the signs of impending weather.  

        My talk with Fairlight about John and Bessie had
turned into disaster.  Even now, I wasn't exactly sure
what had gone wrong except that our words had suddenly
became heated and I'd fled her cabin.  By the time I'd
reached the river, the ground was muddy.  Water
covered the stones that marked my crossing.  Desperate
to get home and out of the storm, I'd stepped into the
rushing water.  Three steps later, I slipped.

        "Miz Christy?"  A distant voice pulled me back to the
present.  

        I almost shouted with joy.  Someone was here, someone
would help me get out of this cold river.  I looked up
into the pounding rain and saw no one.  I wondered if
I'd really heard a voice or only the screaming wind.  

        "Miz Christy, is that you?"  The voice was closer
this time and came from above me.  

        "Here."  I tried to scream but only a croak emerged
from my throat.  I coughed and tried again.  "Here I
am."

        For a moment, I heard nothing and again wondered if I
was hallucinating.  Then a hand appeared from the
ground above my head.  "Take my hands and I'll pull
you up."  I recognized the voice of Bob Allen.  

        I knew I'd never be able to reach my arm above my
head, let alone allow someone to pull me up.  "I
can't.  Shoulder's hurt."

        He peered down at me.  "All right then, stay where
you are.  I'll get you."  

        He disappeared from view, and I felt utterly alone. 
My teeth chattered and my knee ached.  I tried to put
more weight on my right side.  A minute later, I saw
Mr. Allen downstream half scrambling and half sliding
down the embankment.  He was quickly at my side.

        "There's a stretch ahead that's not too steep.  Can
you walk?"  He had to shout to be heard over the wind.

        "I think so."  I took a tentative step forward and
would have fallen had his arms not held me up.  

        "Miz Christy, I'd best carry you – least til we get
out of this river."  It seemed Mr. Allen carried me
forever but at last his horse came into view.  Once
I'd mounted, we began the slow trek back to the
mission.

        David ran out to greet us as we approached. 
"Christy, thank goodness you're safe.  I was so
worried.  What were you doing out in this weather?"  I
was again shivering uncontrollably and couldn't even
manage a protest as David lifted me off the horse. 
Mr. Allen briefly explained what had happened,
shrugged off my profuse thanks and rode off.

        I didn't protest as David carried me to my room. "Are
you hurt?" he asked.  Maybe I should ride for Dr.
MacNeill."

        I shook my head.  "I'm all right."  The last person I
wanted to see was Neil.  "Where's Miss Alice?"

        "She called to say that she and Ruby Mae were still
in El Pano waiting out the storm."  

        David deposited me on my bed, then took off my coat
and shoes.  Another shiver rolled through my body and
David wrapped a blanket around my shoulders.  "Can I
do anything else to help you?" he asked.  When I
indicated that I was fine, he stepped toward the door.
 "Would you like me to get you something?" he asked. 
"Some tea?"  

        "No, thank you David."  

        "I'll leave you to change then.  I'll wait
downstairs.  Call if you need me."  He shut the door
behind him.


Chapter 5


        I sat on my bed, huddled in my blanket.  Darkness
crept over the room and I was glad David had lit the
oil lamp.  I knew I needed to get out of my wet
clothes before I developed a chill but any movement
hurt.  I fingered the top button on my blouse but my
hand shook so badly that I couldn't grasp the small
object.  After a few minutes of effort, I managed to
unfasten one button then a second.  I felt little
satisfaction at my small victory.  

        I thought again about my conversation with Fairlight
and cursed my stubbornness.  Neil, Miss Alice, David –
they'd all told me not meddle yet I'd persisted.  
Why had I ever thought that I knew more about what was
best for John than his own mother?  

        My head jerked up at the sound of a knock at my door.
 How long had I been sitting here?  David must have
returned to check on me.  I fumbled to rebutton my
blouse.

        "David?"  

        "It's Neil.  May I come in?"

        Neil?  What was he doing here?

        "Christy, are you all right?  May I come in?"  The
door opened a crack.

        I wasn't anxious to talk to anyone right now, but
could think of no sensible reason to refuse.  "Yes." 
My voice cracked.  "Come in."

        "Good God, Christy, what happened to you?"  In one
motion, Neil seemed to cross the room, remove his
jacket and gloves, set down his bag, and take my face
in his hands.  They were surprisingly warm and, for
the first time since I'd left for Fairlight's cabin, I
relaxed.

        "How did you—"  I was glad my voice sounded stronger.

        "Bob Allen found me on his way home.  Said I should
have a look at you."  His eyes fixed on mine.  "Even
Grantland agreed.  He's worried, Christy."

        "I'm—"

        "And don't tell me you're fine.  I can see that
you're not."

        "Cold," I finished.

        Neil gave me a brief smile.  "Bob told me what
happened.  Did you hit your head?"  His hands gently
probed the back of my skull.

        "No, just my knee and shoulder."

        His gaze was so intense that, for a moment, I feared
he didn't believe me.  He fingered my sleeve.  "You
need to get out of those wet clothes."  He reached
across the bed and handed me my robe.  "Can you put
this on?"

        My hands were still cold and I wasn't sure I could do
anything.  "I'll try."  My eyes followed him as he
crossed to the window and pointedly turned his back. 
Without getting up from my bed, I managed to get my
blouse and skirt off and my robe draped over my
shoulders before a small moan escaped from my mouth. 
Neil was quickly at my side.

        "No, I can—"  I was frustrated and embarrassed.

        "Christy."  His voice was soft and his eyes held
mine.  "Let me help."

        I nodded because I was too tired to do anything else.
 He reached under the robe and ran his fingers along
my shoulder bones then gently rotated my arm as I bit
back the pain.  "No separation," he said finally, "and
nothing seems to be broken."  He pulled the robe
tighter across my body.  "Now the knee."

        Again Neil pressed and probed.  It hurt, but not as
much as I expected, and he seemed satisfied.  He
pulled a bandage roll from his bag.  "It's a slight
sprain," he said as he handed me the hem of my robe. 
"Hold this."  

        I watched as he anchored the bandage just above my
knee.  I usually hated it when Neil treated me as a
patient but today I found his approach comforting.  I
could deal with him as a physician; I wasn't sure I
could deal with him as a man.  

        "You'll need to keep it elevated for a day or two and
use crutches," he said.  "I'll bring some by
tomorrow."  The bandage was getting thicker.  "Your
shoulder's only bruised.  It'll hurt a bit, but if
you're careful you shouldn't need a sling."  

        When he'd finished, he pulled back my covers.  "In
you go.  Easy now."  He maneuvered me into bed,
positioning my extra pillow under my knee.  "Christy,"
he said when he'd pulled the covers back over me, "why
were you trying to cross the river in the middle of a
storm?"

        "Because Fairlight was angry with me."

        "Fairlight?  Whatever for?"

        "I tried to change her mind about John."

        Neil sighed and reached for his saddlebag.  He
retrieved a small bottle, tapped some of the powder
into a glass and filled it with water.

        "She told me if I had nothing more to say I could
leave."  I was nearly in tears.  "Fairlight was my
best friend."

        "Christy, I've known Fairlight since she was a small
girl.  She holds no grudges."  He stirred the contents
of the glass and handed it to me.  

        I knew what was in the glass.  I didn't want to
sleep.  "I need to—"

        "Right now you need to sleep."  He nodded at the
glass.  "Drink it.  We'll talk in the morning."
        
        "Please—"

        "In the morning, Christy."

Chapter 6

 "United States Mail.  United States Mail."  I heard
Mr. Pentland's booming voice long before he reached
the mission yard.  

        "It seems Mr. Pentland is making his rounds early
today," Miss Alice said as she entered the dining room
with mugs in each hand.  

        Miss Alice and Ruby Mae had arrived back from El Pano
only a short time ago and Ruby Mae had immediately run
off to school.  I was grateful that David had agreed
to teach for me today.  Despite my best intentions, I
knew I wouldn't make it to class unless David carried
me there and I certainly wasn't ready for that. 
Besides, I hoped that Miss Alice and I would have some
time to talk alone.  

        I sat crosswise in a chair at the dining room table,
my bandaged leg carefully propped on a pillow on the
adjoining chair.  I'd insisted on getting dressed but
now wished I'd stayed in my nightgown and robe.  I
hadn't believed it possible to hurt more than
yesterday, but I did.  Overnight I'd developed a host
of new bruises and sore spots.  

        Miss Alice placed a steaming mug in front of me.  "I
am anxious to hear details of thy adventures yesterday
– after we say good morning to Mr. Pentland," she
added with a smile.  She left the room and I heard her
open the front door before Mr. Pentland had even
knocked.  "Mr. Pentland, it's good to see thee again."

        "Good to see you too, ma'am.  Got another package for
Miz Huddleston."  He stepped inside far enough that I
could see him.  "Thank the Lord this one ain't as big
as that last.  Bout near dropped that one along the
way."  He nodded at me and held out a box in his
hands.  "Heard about your accident."  His eyes dropped
to my leg.  "Hope everything's all right."  

        I smiled at him.  "I'm much better, thank you."  I
wasn't surprised he already knew the entire story. 
Word traveled fast through the Cove, and Mr. Pentland
was often the primary messenger.  

        "From the same person."  Mr. Pentland nodded at the
box.  "Whoever that is."

        He was right.  When I took the box from his hands, I
immediately recognized the distinctive scroll of the
address.  This time the box was only about a foot
square, but it was heavier than I expected and I
quickly set it on the table.  

        Mr. Pentland turned back toward the door.  I saw him
drag his right foot and noticed for the first time
that he was limping.

        Miss Alice must have seen it too.  "Mr. Pentland,
thee looks a bit tired.  Perhaps thee would like to
sit down and have a cup of tea before continuing on
your way."

        "Oh, no ma'am.  I need to be getting along, four more
letters to deliver before sundown.  Neither rain nor snow—"

        He didn't look ready to go anywhere and I searched
for a way to give Miss Alice support.  "At least stay
until I open the package," I called out.

        Mr. Pentland twisted around at the doorway.  "Second
one from the same person."  He seemed to weigh his
curiosity against his need to deliver more mail and
finally sat down on the chair next to me.  "Heard you
got yourself a nice fiddle."

        "Yes, though I don't know why someone sent it or even
how to play it."  I carefully opened the new package
uncertain of what I might find.  This time, there was
little wrapping and I quickly pulled several dog-eared
pages from the box.

        "Looks like music," Mr. Pentland said.

        "The Tennessee Waltz."  I pulled out more pages of
sheet music and flipped through them – Amazing Grace,
Silent Night, and many others, some of which I
recognized and many more that I didn't.  I searched in
vain for a letter or some sign of the sender's identity.

        "Must be for the violin."  Mr. Pentland gave me a
strange look.  "Looks like you got yourself a secret
admirer." 

        "What secret admirer?" Miss Alice asked.

        "Oh Miss Alice."  I felt a blush creep up my face. 
"I don't know who's sending these things, but I doubt
it's a secret admirer."

        "It appears that the sender intends for someone to
play that violin," she said.

        "But who?"  I asked.  "Jeb won't take it."

        "I am sure thee has received the violin and now the
music for a reason even if that reason may not be
clear to thee."  

        "Good morning, Alice."  I heard Dr. MacNeill at
almost the same time his frame filled the doorway. 
We'd been so intent on the package that no one had
heard him ride up.  "I brought some crutches for
Christy—"  He stepped into the room and saw me for the
first time.  "Christy, what are you doing out of bed?"
He leaned the crutches against the table and dropped
his gaze to my injured leg.  "I hope you didn't try to
climb down those steps—"

        "Do not worry, Neil," Miss Alice interrupted.  "David
carried her."

        An unusual expression clouded Neil's face and I
wondered for a moment if he was jealous.  Before I
could decide if that pleased me, the look passed. 
Maybe he'd merely been annoyed that I was out of bed. 

        Ben Pentland was the first to break the silence.  "I
best be getting on my way.  Dallied too long as it
is."  He stood up quickly – too quickly – and nearly
toppled onto the floor.  He clutched at the back of
the chair to steady himself.

        Neil was at his side in an instant.  "Sit down." 
Neil knelt next to Mr. Pentland and pushed up his pant
leg.  Even I could see that that his lower leg was an
angry red, inflamed and terribly swollen.  Neil
appeared more annoyed than surprised.  "Ben, what are
you doing climbing all over these mountains?  I
thought I told you to take it easy." 
        
        "Looks a might worse than it is.  Don't hurt much." 
Mr. Pentland started to rise.  "Sides, folks are
depending on me for their mail."

        "Sit back down."  This time, Neil's voice left no
room for disagreement.

        Miss Alice turned to me.  "Miss Huddleston, perhaps
thee would be more comfortable on the divan while Neil
tends to Mr. Pentland."

        I nodded and, with the help of Miss Alice and the
crutches, hobbled into the other room where there was
little chance that our conversation – or Neil's with
Ben Pentland – would carry.  As Miss Alice settled me
onto the couch, my eyes were drawn to the window.  I
couldn't see the school but I knew my students were in
class without me.  David would teach as long as
necessary but even so, I needed to be there myself.  I
worried about Orter Ball and Isaak and--.  

        "I'm sure David is doing a fine job," Miss Alice
broke into my thoughts.

        "Of course he is."  

        "But thy students are not thy only concern."  She
leaned against the mantle and then waited – as she so
often did -- for me to say more.  

        I wasn't sure where to start.  "About last night—"  I
turned away from the window to face her.  "I went to
see Fairlight."  I tried to explain how my best of
intentions turned into disaster.  When I'd finished, I
waited for sage words but Miss Alice again remained
silent.  "Oh, Miss Alice, you were right and Neil was
right.  And now everything is a mess."

        "Friendship is deeper than a few harsh words."  Miss
Alice's voice was soothing.  "I doubt anything thee
has said has changed Fairlight's opinion of thee."

        "But she—"

        "Thee still considers Fairlight a friend?"

        "Of course."

        "Then why would her opinion of thee have changed?"  

        I knew why I was worried.  I'd hoped Fairlight would
bring her children to school this morning or that she
might have heard of my accident from Bob Allen and
stopped by to see me.  Something to let me know she
wasn't still angry.  I also knew that there were a
thousand good reasons why I'd yet to see her today. 
Once again I found myself without an answer to Miss
Alice's challenge.  "If I could just see her to
explain—"

        Miss Alice's look was kind.  "When thee is well."
  
        We turned at the sound of Neil entering the room. 
"So, Neil, how is Mr. Pentland?" Miss Alice asked.

        Neil leaned against the doorframe.  "No question,
Alice.  It's phlebitis."

        I saw Alice sigh but had little idea of the
seriousness of Neil's diagnosis.  He must have sensed
my confusion, because he immediately launched into an
explanation.

        "Phlebitis is an inflammation of the veins, most
likely resulting from his injury last month.  His
treks across the mountains haven't helped."

        Now that Neil mentioned it, I remembered that Mr.
Pentland had tripped over some half-buried tree roots
not far from Neil's cabin and taken a nasty fall. 
Even so, he'd been back to his mail route within a few
days.  I was surprised that he was still suffering the
effects of the injury so much later.  "Will he get
better?" I asked.

        "From this, yes, with a few weeks' rest."  

        Miss Alice smiled.  "I suspect thee will have a
difficult time keeping Ben Pentland at rest for
several days let alone several weeks."

        "I fear he'll need to rest longer than that," Neil
said.   

        This surprised me and I could see that Miss Alice too
hadn't expected the news.  I wanted to ask Neil what
he meant, what else was wrong with Mr. Pentland.  But
before I could open my mouth, there was a knock at the
door.

Chapter 7


        John Spencer stood on the stoop.  "Miss Henderson." 
He sounded out of breath.  "I'm looking for Doc
MacNeill.  They said at the mill—"

        "Yes John, I'm here."  Neil crossed to the door. 
"What is it?"

        "Doc, thank goodness I found you.  It's Ma.  She went
out last night after Miz Christy and got caught in the
storm.  Now she's coughing something bad.  Pa's real
worried and he sent me to find--"  John stepped into
the room and saw me for the first time.  "Oh, Miz
Christy, I didn't see you.  I didn't mean—"

        I barely heard his apology or Neil's response.  All
that mattered was that Fairlight wasn't mad at me. 
She'd cared enough to come after me in the middle of
the storm and now she was ill – all because of me. 
What had I done?  The sight of Neil picking up his
saddlebags focused my thoughts.  I started to push
myself up from the divan.  "I'm going with you." 

        "Absolutely not."  He turned back to John.  "John,
I'll go see your mother now but I need you to ride Ben
Pentland home.  He's injured his leg and I don't want
him walking on it."

        "Doc, I can't go home," Mr. Pentland called from the
dining room.  "Still got mail to deliver."

        "Ben, I know it's important that those letters be
delivered straight away," Neil said.  "I'm sure John
here can deliver them after he takes you home."

        John hesitated for a moment then nodded.  I wouldn't
give up so easily.  By now I'd made it to my feet and
struggled to put some weight on my injured leg. 
"Neil, I must go with you.  You don't understand. 
It's my fault that Fairlight is ill."

        Neil and Miss Alice started to speak at the same
time.  Neil crossed to me in a few strides.  "Christy,
I haven't time to argue with you."  He placed his hand
on my uninjured shoulder and gently cupped my neck. 
"I know you're worried about Fairlight, but you're in
no condition to travel."  His voice was low and
smooth.  "I cannot be worrying about both of you."

        "I have to see her and tell her how sorry I am—"

        Neil's eyes were kind.  "I know you're worried.  I'll
take good care of her."  He gave my shoulder a slight
squeeze and gently lowered me back onto the divan. 
"Meanwhile, you need to rest.  As soon as I'm finished
with Fairlight, I'll come back and tell you how she
is.  If I do that, will you go back to bed?"

        I considered for a moment.  I knew Neil was right –
much as I wanted to go with him, I couldn't travel. 
"I won't go to bed—"  Neil started to interrupt.  "But
I will rest here."

        Neil turned to Miss Alice.  "Make sure she does."

        I gave Neil a long look, begging him to make
Fairlight well.  His eyes were his promise.
****

        I waited on the divan through lunch, barely touching
the food that Miss Alice brought.

        "Oh, Miss Alice, if Neil's still there, Fairlight
must be terribly ill.  I should have gone with him."

        "Thee can help best by praying, Miss Huddleston." 
Her tone was measured but I sensed a note of worry in
her voice.  I knew she was torn between the desire to
go after Dr. MacNeill herself and her unwillingness to
leave me alone at the mission.

        The afternoon shadows had just begun to creep across
the room when David popped through the door.  

        "Christy, what are you still doing down here? 
Shouldn't you be back in bed."

        I started to tell him about Fairlight but he'd
already heard from Zady that they'd called for Dr.
MacNeill.  I explained Neil's promise and that we were
still waiting for word.

        "Maybe I should ride over there," he said.  "Find out
what's happening."

        "Oh David, would you?"  I hoped my face conveyed my
gratitude.  "I'm so worried.  Neil should have been
back by now."

        When David explained his plans to Miss Alice, the
relief on her face made me even more concerned.  David
left to saddle Prince while I tried to push aside
visions of Fairlight lying in bed gasping for breath. 


        David returned only minutes later; he was not alone. 
At the sight of the man beside him, I burst into
tears.  There could only be one reason he had come. 
Miss Alice put her arm around my shoulder while,
strangely, David only looked surprised.

        Jeb Spencer rushed toward me.  "Miz Christy, it's all
right.  Don't cry.  Fairlight's fine."  He grasped my
hand.  "She's fine."

        "She's not---"  I couldn't say the word.

        "Sorry to put a scare into you.  It's just that Doc
got called to Lawson's Ridge and said he'd promised to
tell you about Fairlight.  I would've come sooner but
couldn't leave 'til Zady got home."  He looked
apologetic.  "Came straight over."

        "It's all right, Jeb."  I forced myself to breathe
slowly.  "I was so worried and then I saw you and I
thought—"

        "Nope, Doc said she's got a bit of con—stuff in her
lungs but it'll right itself in a few days.  Said
he'll check on her when he gets back."

        We continued to talk but I only mouthed the words. 
Fairlight was going to be all right and suddenly, so
was I.


Chapter 8

It was David who knocked on my bedroom door the
following morning.  I was sitting up in my bed.  I'd
been awake for over an hour.  Miss Alice had rewrapped
my knee the night before, but it ached, my shoulder
ached, my whole body ached. 

        "So we both get the day off," David announced as he
stepped into my room.

        He was right; today was Saturday and there was no
school.  The children were too badly needed to help
out with chores around the house and in the fields.   


        "Feeling any better?" he asked.

        I forced a smile.  "A little."  

        David leaned against the wall.  "I saw the box of
music Ben Pentland delivered yesterday.  Looks like
it's from the same person who sent the violin."

        "I just can't figure out who sent it and why. 
Whoever it is seems to know all about me.  But I can't
think of anyone I know who plays violin, especially
that one."

        "Someone who no longer plays that one."

        "I wish I knew what to do with it.  Maybe it was
meant for the children, but I can't play so I
certainly can't teach anyone to play it."  I gingerly
shifted the position of my leg.  "I was hoping that
maybe John Spencer might be interested, but--.

        "But all he can think of is Bessie," David finished
with a smile.  "You know the wedding is two weeks from
Sunday."  

        "So soon," I murmured.

        David pointed at my leg.  "You're not still trying to
talk them out of it, are you?" he asked with a smile.

        I shook my head.  I'd learned my lesson.

        "Well, I may have solved one of your problems," he
said.

        I gave him a questioning look.

        "Isaak.  Miss Alice told me he was skipping school
and I think I know why.   I don't know if it will
solve everything and we'll have to check with Dr.
MacNeill to be sure, but my guess is that he needs
spectacles."

        "Glasses?"

        "I don’t think he can see writing on the blackboard. 
I tried sitting him closer to the front and it seemed
to help a bit."

        I blinked in surprise.  The explanation was so simple
and yet I'd never thought of it.  Isaak stayed away
from school because he couldn't read the lessons.  I
wondered why he hadn't said something.  Maybe he was
afraid there was something terribly wrong or maybe he
feared his family wouldn't be able to afford the
glasses.  In any event, I hoped David was right and
said as much.

        "I do too," he replied.

        "I don't know why I didn't realize that he couldn't
see."

        "Don't blame yourself.  It's a lot easier to notice
little things when you don't see the children every
day.  Why do you think MacNeill's so good at it?"

        That brought a smile to my lips.

        "Besides, I might be wrong.  We'll have to see what
the doctor has to say."  David turned as if to leave. 
He paused for a moment before looking back.  His
demeanor told me that he had something more serious on
his mind than Isaak's glasses.  "Christy, I—we—haven't
had much time to talk lately.  I miss that."

        I had to admit that I missed it too.  David and I had
so much in common.  He was my first friend in the Cove
and was still the person I turned to for everyday
companionship.  Our relationship was based on a love
of God and a dedication to helping others.  It was our
clumsy attempts at romance that seemed to undermine
our friendship.  After I'd turned down David's second
marriage proposal, we'd agreed to try simply being
friends.  But that had proved more difficult than I'd
expected and we seemed to end up avoiding each other. 
Now I found even simple conversations difficult.  

        I was afraid to say anything that might encourage him
to hope for more than friendship.  Yet, I didn't want
to alienate him either.  I loved him as a friend and
didn't want to lose that.  We essentially lived under
the same roof, ate at the same table, prayed in the
same church, and worked every day toward the same
goals.  I needed him as my friend.

        I considered how to phrase my response.  "I've missed
it too, David.  We've both been so busy of late.  And
this," I pointed to my knee, "hasn't helped."

        "Maybe when you're feeling better, we can—take a
walk, like we used to?"

        "Of course."  I stifled a yawn and was immediately
embarrassed.  I realized how it must have seemed to
David but I couldn't help myself.  I was tired.

        "I'm sorry, I should let you get some rest."  He
stumbled toward the door.  "I just wanted to tell you
about Isaak."
          
        I tried to smile warmly.  "I'm sorry, David.  It's
just that I'm still a bit tired.  I appreciate what
you've done for Isaak, really I do."  The minute David
left, I looked outside my window in frustration.  I
had to get out of this bed.  There was so much going
on in the Cove and I wanted to be part of it.  I
needed to be part of it.

****

        I wasn't halfway to my destination and already I knew
I'd made a big mistake.  The moment David and Alice
had left for their Saturday afternoon visits to
neighbors too old or too ill to attend Sunday
services, I'd headed for the stables.  In my current
condition, I couldn't walk to the Spencer cabin but
figured I could tough it out riding.

        Mounting the mule was easier than I'd expected but I
had to use my knees for control.  When I didn't
maintain pressure, the mule wandered off the trail and
when I did, I was in excruciating pain.  

        "Come on Theo," I urged.  "Don't do this to me."  I
pulled up and leaned onto the mule's neck, easing the
pressure on my legs.  I wasn't getting any closer to
my destination but I felt much better.  I wasn't sure
how long I'd been in that position when I heard a
voice in the distance.  I quickly recognized John
Spencer.

        "Are you all right, Miz Christy?"  He approached me
on foot and took the mule's reins from me.  "Should I
take you back to the mission?'

        "No.  I need to see your mother.  Can you help me get
there?"

        John looked dubious.  "Are you sure?  You don't look
so good."

        I was able to convince John to lead Theo toward his
home.  As we made out way toward the cabin, he told me
about his adventures delivering mail for Mr. Pentland.
 I tried to show interest in his stories, but found
myself tiring and losing concentration.  When we
reached the cabin I was surprised to see Fairlight
sitting on the porch.  She seemed equally surprised to
see me approaching and quickly stood up.

        "Miz Christy, what are you doing here?"  I felt
lightheaded.  She came running towards me and I
vaguely heard her calling for Jeb.

        I was too tired to move and almost too tired to
speak.  My vision as I tried to focus on her face. 
But I'd waited for such a long time for this moment. 
"Oh Fairlight, I'm so sorry."  

        I felt myself being lifted from the horse and carried
into the cabin, Fairlight trailing beside me.  I was
gently placed on the bed and when I blinked, I saw
only her face above me.  I could hear her giving
instructions to someone and a cool cloth was laid on
my head.  Fairlight's hand brushed the hair out of my
face.

        "Miz Christy, what have I done to you?"

        I struggled to find my voice.  "Fairlight, I'm so
sorry that I got angry with you and made you sick."

        "You didn't make me sick.  And don't you worry about
me being angry with you."  I saw her smile.  "Ma
always said I had a temper."

        "I wanted to come see you, but I couldn't walk—"

        "Hush now.  You just lie there and rest."  Fairlight
stepped away from the bed and said something to Jeb. 
A moment later she slipped her hand into mine and I
relaxed in her strong grip.  There was so much I
wanted to tell her but I was tired.  So tired.


Chapter 9 

  I awakened to the sound of commotion in the room.  I
remembered I was in the Spencer cabin and was aware
that Fairlight was still sitting beside me on the bed.
 When I focused my eyes, I saw that Jeb stood at the
open front door looking at something in the distance. 


        "—came to check on Fairlight."  I cringed at the
sound of Neil's voice.  I knew he would be angry at me
for disobeying his orders to stay in bed.  I'd been
stupid and now I was paying the price.  I didn't need
him to remind me.

        "She's doing fine," Jeb answered, stepping aside to
let Neil enter, "but it's Miz Christy I'm worried
about—"

        I don't know if Neil first heard Jeb's words or saw
me lying in bed but the shock on his face was
unmistakable.  In one glance, he seemed to take in
both Fairlight and me and our interlocked hands.  I
recognized the expression that flickered across his
face – frustration tinged with anger – was the one he
used when patients refused to obey his orders.  Yet
when he spoke, his voice was restrained.  "Let me have
a look at Christy, Fairlight, then I'll see to you."

        Fairlight relinquished my hand and her place beside
me with a slight smile.  "She'll be all right, Neil." 
I knew it was her way of warning him not to be too
harsh.

        He exchanged a look with her and nodded before
turning his attention back to me.  He set down his bag
and smoothly eased himself onto the bed beside me. 
One of his hands touched my forehead and the other
took my wrist.  

        "I'm sorry," I whispered, "I know I shouldn't—"

        "Sshh."  He placed a finger on my lips.  "It's done
now."  His voice was so soft I doubted anyone else in
the room heard him.  "Just tell me what hurts you."

        He had every right to be furious with me.  I searched
his face for some sign of anger, yet the only emotion
that touched his voice – or his eyes -- was concern. 
I sighed.  "My knee mostly."

        He eyes held mine as he waited for me to admit to
more.  After a moment, he turned and called over his
shoulder.  "Zady, I'll need you help."

        At Neil's request, Zady adjusted the blankets,
folding them back then recovering me.  Neil looked me
over quickly, but spent most of his time examining my
injured knee.  It hurt terribly and his manipulations
only made it worse.  He turned quickly when I gasped. 
"I'm sorry, Christy.  I know this hurts you.  Just a
bit more."  After a few moments, he gently laid my leg
back on the pillow.  "Zady, might you fetch a cup of
your mother's tea for Miss Huddleston?"

        The moment she crossed the room, he again spoke in
hushed tones.  "You were very lucky, Christy.  I don't
think you've done any new damage.  It could have been
much worse."

        I only nodded.  I knew he was right.

        "Your knee won't heal unless you rest."

        "I know.  Please don't be angry with me.  I just had
to see Fairlight."

        His smile was warm.  I felt his hand grasp mine.  "I
know you did.  And I'll not scold you.  This time." 
He smiled again.  "But I am going to be sure that you
rest." 

        Zady returned with the tea.  I took small sips as I
watched Neil prepare a hypodermic.  "This will help
with the pain.  You should be able to sleep, but I'll
leave a draught just in case."  After he'd given me
the injection, he propped my knee on a pillow then
pulled the bedcovers to my chin. "You'll sleep here
tonight.  I'll let the mission know.  We'll see about
getting you back in the morning."  He brushed the hair
off my forehead.  "Sleep now while I check on
Fairlight."

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

Chapter 10

It was mid-week before Neil allowed me to return
to school and this time I didn't try to argue with
him.  Much as I wanted to be in class, it had felt
good to rest for a few days.  And Fairlight, now fully
recovered, had visited daily.

        The morning I headed for school, David helped me up
the hill from the mission house.  I'd given up my
crutches but still used a cane.  When I reached the
doorway of the schoolroom, I noted that all of the
children were already in their seats and reasonably
quiet.  David must have worked some magic to make them
this attentive.  I started to wish them good morning,
but one of the children saw me first.

        "Miz Christy!" Little Burl cried out.  "Miz Christy's
back."

        Before I realized what was happening, my students
swarmed around me.  Only David's steady hand at my
back kept me standing.  

        "Come now," I said when I'd finally disengaged, "it
hasn't been that long."

        Mountie was the first to speak.  "We missed you, Miz
Christy."

        "I missed you too, Mountie."  My gaze took in the
entire class.  "All of you."

        After I'd greeted each of my students, David helped
me walk to my desk.  Before he left, I made sure the
children didn't forget their manners.  "What do we say
to Reverend Grantland for teaching you every day while
I was away?"  When they sang out "Thank you, Reverend
Grantland," in unison, I saw a deep smile cross
David's lips.  

        He leaned toward me.  "I’ll be back after lunch to
teach Bible.  If you need me in the meantime, just
send one of the children."

        I began the morning with the geography lesson.  I
looked for Isaak McHone so I could seat him at the
front of the room, but then remembered that Neil was
planning to check his eyes at home this morning.  I
hoped glasses would be the solution for at least one
of my problem students.

        "Toot, how many continents can you name?" 
Assignments had been given out before I'd been injured
but I knew that David had drilled the student in my
absence.  Depending on age, the children were to
memorize continents, oceans, and U.S. states.  

        Toot stood near the front of the room.  "Ah, that
would be America?"

        "Any particular one, Toot?"

        "This one."  That brought on a few snickers and I
waited patiently for him to change his answer.  "Oh
yeah.  North America.  And then there's South America,
Africa, and that real cold one."

        "That's right; do you remember what it's called?"

        "Anica, Ant—"

        "Antarctica," I corrected.  "Who remembers my telling
you last year that someone finally reached the South
Pole?"  A few hands shot into the air.  And so it
went.  I talked for a few minutes about the Amundsen
expedition and the relationship of the South Pole to
Antarctica.  We finished up the continents and made
some progress with oceans.  I asked some of the
children to point out the locations on the atlas and
we talked both about relative size and distortions of
the map.  Becky O'Teale did a good job identifying
states that I pointed to, missing only Arkansas.  I
swallowed a sense of dread and called on her brother.

        "Orter Ball, why don't you name the northeastern
states for the class," I said, offering him my wooden
pointer.

        He shrugged.  "Don't know 'em."

        Inwardly I groaned but forced myself to remain
unfazed in front of my students.  "Is there some
reason you're not prepared for class today?  You've
had this assignment for over a week."

        He shrugged again.  "I looked at 'em but can't
remember what they're called."

        "Why don't you try naming at least one."  I pointed
to Maine.  "How about this one, way up north?"

        "Dunno."

        "I'd like to see you during recess."  This comment
drew expected catcalls from his fellow students and I
quickly refocused the class by calling on Zady.  

        An hour later, the children poured out of the
classroom into the sunshine.  Only Orter Ball stayed
behind and slowly sauntered toward my desk.  I
purposely let him stand in front of me for nearly a
minute before I looked up.  

        "Orter Ball, this isn't the first time you've been
unprepared for your lesson.  Are you too busy at home?
 Do you have too many chores?"

        The boy shook his head and shrugged at the same time.
 "Nah."

        "What did you say?"

        "No, Miz Christy, I ain't got too many chores."

        "Then why are you unprepared for class?"  

        No matter what questions I asked, Orter Ball's
responses remained noncommittal and I fought the urge
to raise my voice.  I took a deep breath.  "I think
you should use your recess time today to work on your
lesson.  You can start by writing each of the states
on the board five times.  Perhaps that will help you
learn them."

        Orter Ball gave me a sullen look.  "Yes, ma'am."  He
stomped to the chalkboard and began to write.

        Although I would have preferred to remain seated at
my desk so that I could rest my leg, I knew I needed
to give my student a chance to calm down.  I needed it
myself.  I pulled myself up from my desk, grabbed my
cane, and strode purposefully down the center aisle.

        Outside, I was surprised to find the children
clustered around the base of a distant tree.  Curious
and worried what had captured their attention, I
carefully descended the steps.  

        "Miss Huddleston!"  The crowd of children parted to
reveal Dr. MacNeill kneeling in their midst.  "Come
see Isaak's new glasses."

        I knew Neil watched me carefully as I made my way
across the field and I did my best to look
comfortable.  It wasn't too difficult; my knee was
feeling better.  After I'd spent a few minutes with
the children, Neil pulled me aside.  

        "How is your knee?  Not overdoing it, I hope."

        "It's all right, I'm being careful."

        "I'm pleased to hear it.  Turns out Grantland was
right about young Isaak.  He's more than a bit
nearsighted."  He nodded in the boy's direction. 
"Those glasses aren't perfect, but they should help."

        "I hope so.  Do you have some for Orter Ball as
well?"

        Neil gave me a strange look.  "Why?  Do you think--?"

        I smiled.  "Never mind."  A quick glance at my
students showed they had begun to get restless.  I
started to walk back towards the building.  "I need to
get back to class."  

        He held my arm for an extra moment before letting me
go.  "All right.  But I have more to say to you,
Christy."

        I looked back over my shoulder in surprise and
received only a sly smile in return.


Chapter 11

By the time I let school out that afternoon, I was
exhausted.  I left Orter Ball at the chalkboard to
finish his geography exercises and slowly made my way
out of my classroom.  I'd barely managed three steps
when I saw Dr. MacNeill approaching on Charlie.  I
waited while he crossed the field and dismounted from
his horse.  

        "Dr. MacNeill."  Although I addressed him formally, I
was pleased he had come by.  "I didn't expect to see
you again so soon."

        He removed his riding gloves.  "I had to check on my
favorite patient – and my favorite schoolteacher."

        "I thought you did that this morning."

        He grinned.  "So I did."  

        "Thank you for what you did for Isaak."

        "I didn't do much.  The Reverend deserves most of the
credit."

        I didn't know why Neil was here and I had no idea
what more to say to him.  He'd been his usual
professional self when I'd been injured but we hadn't
really talked since the day I'd visited his cabin
about John and Bessie.  That now seemed such a long
time ago.  I glanced toward the mission.  "I should be
getting back."

        "Friendship can be difficult, Christy, especially
when friends disagree."

        "Fairlight and I did disagree, but we've made up
now."

        "I wasn't speaking of Fairlight."

        "You mean when I came to your cabin about John and
Bessie?
        
        "Are you still worried about John and Bessie getting
married?"

        "Yes.  I mean no."  This time I looked at him.  "Miss
Alice agrees with you."

        "Does she now?"  A smile played about his lips.   

        "I still think it's wrong," I said.  "And I'm worried
about John working in the mines."

        "I know.  And I know you've said nothing about it to
John or Bessie."

        "Am I being a hypocrite?"

        "No, you're being a friend.  They need support, not
judgment."

        "Even if I think they're wrong?"

        "Especially if you think they're wrong."
        
        I thought about that for a moment, then started to
walk slowly across the school yard.  Neil followed
beside me.  "I only want what's best for them," I
said.
        
        "I know you do.  We often think we know what's best
for one another."

        I wondered if he was still talking about John and
Bessie and had the strange sensation he was not.

        "Will you attend the wedding?" he asked.

        "Of course.  Why wouldn't I?"

        "You've not been to a mountain wedding, have you?"

        "No."  The grin pasted on his face caused me to amend
my answer quickly.  "But Fairlight explained – some
things – to me."  

        The grin disappeared.  "Good."

        "I doubt I'll stay the entire—"  I was interrupted by
a strange wailing coming from the schoolhouse.  We
both turned toward the noise.  "What was--?"  The
sound came again and this time I knew what it was.  I
started back across the yard, with Neil a few steps
behind me.  "If he's ruined that beautiful
instrument," I said as I climbed the steps.

        Orter Ball stood near my desk, the violin in one hand
and the bow in the other.  He was poised to draw it
across the strings when he saw me.  Guilt and
apprehension crossed his face.  "Oh, Miz Christy, I'm
sorry."  He fumbled to put the instrument back on the
table and almost dropped it in the process.  "I just
saw this lying here and wanted--I didn't mean no
harm."

        For a moment, I was angry.  Angry because Orter Ball
had crossed me yet again.  Whether it was his lessons
or remedial work after school, it seemed he constantly
had to challenge my authority.  Something must have
conveyed my emotions because I felt Neil's hand press
on my forearm.

        "It's all right, Orter Ball," he said.  "We were
outside and heard you playing.  Isn't that right, Miss
Huddleston."

        I swallowed my anger and tried to smile.  "Of
course."

        Orter Ball picked up the chalk.  "I'm almost finished
my states."  He pointed to the board.  "See, I'm up to
Utah."

        "That's fine," replied.  You can stop there."  Neil
relaxed his grip.  I walked to the front of the room
and picked up the violin.  I could see it hadn't been
damaged and immediately regretted my anger.  The boy
had simply been curious.  I took a deep breath and
held out the instrument to him.  "Would you like to
play this?"

        The boy looked frightened.  "No ma'am.  I know I
shouldn't be touching things that ain't meant for me. 
I'll just be on my way."  

        I watched in despair as he scampered out of the
classroom.  I started to go after him but again felt
Neil's hand on my arm.  "Let him go, Christy."

        I slid into the nearest seat.  "He wanted to play."

        "He can still play.  Give him time, he'll be back."

        "What makes you so sure?"

        "Because I did the same thing, many years ago."  Neil
took a seat across from me and pulled out his pipe. 
He gave me a questioning look, asking my permission to
smoke.  I gave him a slight nod.

        "Remember how I told you about the physicians who
came to the Cove years ago to go camping?"

        I nodded.  "You carried their equipment and they
later sent you to medical school."

        Neil carefully lit his pipe and blew a small cloud of
smoke into the air between us.  "One morning, they'd
gone into the woods to—for their morning
constitutionals.  I took the opportunity to go through
their bags.  I wanted a look at their medical
instruments."

        I smiled.  I knew where this story was going.  "And
they caught you."

        Neil look bemused.  "They did.  I was ready to run
for it, to leave camp that very moment."

        "Were they angry?"

        "No," he said slowly.  "I'd say they were more
surprised than angry."  He took another drag on the
pipe; I watched the smoke curl above me.  "And, of
course, once they realized I was interested in
medicine and wasn't trying to steal from them . . ."

        "What can I do to help Orter Ball?"

        "Christy, you can't make him want to play the violin
any more than those doctors could make me want to
study medicine.  He has to want it.  And if he does,
he'll be back."  Neil smiled.  "Nothing will be able
to stop him."


Chapter 12

 Orter Ball's attempt to play the violin haunted me. 
Despite Neil's advice, over the next few days, I
repeatedly tried to entice my student to pick up the
instrument.  He refused, saying he'd made a mistake
and couldn't play.  I began to wonder if he was not so
much scared of playing but of playing badly.

        In desperation, a few days later, I rode to the
Spencer cabin.  I'd brought with me several sheets of
music that I'd received in the mysterious package,
having selected those that appeared easiest to play.  


        When I dismounted, I saw Jeb across the yard working
with his bees.  I'd never liked them and, truth be
told, the thought of bees clustered around their hive
made my skin crawl.  The incident with Lulu's bee
stings only fed my fears.  I approached carefully and
stopped the moment I heard the first buzzing noise. 
Jeb seemed surprised when I said that I'd come to see
him and promised me he'd finish up in a few moments.

        Inside the cabin, Fairlight was slicing apples. 
Everywhere I looked there were apples – some sliced,
most whole.  There were so many that I assumed she was
making apple pies, applesauce, as well as apple
butter.  I wondered if these were for the wedding and
said as much aloud.

        "They sure are.  I just hope I have enough for
everyone."

        I had little doubt the entire Cove would be eating
apple products for weeks.  I looked around the empty
cabin.  "Where is everyone?"  

        "I sent the young'uns off to Opal's.  They just get
underfoot and I'll never finish."  

        "What about John?"  He hadn't been to school for the
last week but I'd simply assumed he'd been busy
preparing for the wedding and his move.

        "Out delivering mail."

        "Is Mr. Pentland still ill?  I didn't think anything
could keep him from his appointed rounds."  

        Fairlight had almost finished slicing the apples in
her basket and quickly carried another basket to her
from across the room.  "Seems Neil won't let him go." 

        I knew Neil could be firm but was surprised that he'd
been successful in keeping Mr. Pentland at home. 
Fairlight must have anticipated my unspoken question.

        "John says Neil said he'd write some government folks
'bout Mr. Pentland being sick and all," she said. 
"Don't know if he done it, but wouldn't surprise me
none.  When that man sets his mind to something—"

        Jeb's entrance cut off my reply.  "Fairlight, that
sure smells good."  He approached the stove and, with
a wicked smile, reached a spoon into the kettle.  "Can
I have a taste?"

        Fairlight playfully pushed his hand away.  "You stay
away, Jeb Spencer.  I need every one of them apples if
we're to have enough food for the wedding." 

        Jeb gave me a look of resignation before sitting down
at the table.  "So how can I help you, Miz Christy."

        I took a seat across from him.  "Jeb, you've seen
that beautiful violin that someone sent me?"  He
nodded.  I" hate for it to go unplayed.  I know you
won't play it, but would you at least agree to teach
Orter Ball."  I explained the interest the boy had
shown.  "I certainly can't teach him. "  I pushed a
few pages of music across the table at him.  "Maybe
you could start with these?"

        Jeb made no move to pick up or even look at the
music.  "Fraid I can't do that, Miz Christy."

        "Why not?"  I was confused.  Jeb had been playing the
fiddle for his entire life.  Playing a violin couldn't
be that different.  "I can't imagine it would take
long.  I can even have him come over here."

        "I'm sorry, I just can't."

        I didn't understand why Jeb wouldn't agree.  I gave
him a look of annoyance, then scooped up the music and
stood up from the table.  "Of course.  I'm sorry I
asked."

        "Jeb."  It was Fairlight's voice from across the
room.  "Tell Miz Christy why."

        I looked between the two, uncertain what Fairlight
meant.  

        "Ain't nothing to be ashamed of."  Her comment seemed
directed at both Jeb and me.  I stood near the table
uncertain whether to stay or go.

        Jeb looked up at me.  "I've been playing the violin
since I was smaller than Least'un.  My pa learned me
to start and I learned the rest myself."

        I knew all this, which was the reason I'd come to Jeb
in the first place.  

        "I can play but I can't read music.  All them marks
on them pages don't mean nothing to me.  I'm sorry."

        I didn't know what to say.  Jeb played so well that
it had never occurred to me that he couldn't read
sheet music.  "I'm the one who should be sorry, I
didn't mean—"

        "It's all right."  Fairlight's hand was on my arm. 
"Jeb knows you didn't mean no harm.  Right Jeb."
        
        Jeb nodded but I felt terrible.  In my haste to help
one person in the Cove, I'd inadvertently brought
shame to another.  I wasn't sure that not being able
to read music meant that Jeb couldn't still be a
teacher.  But I realized that this wasn't the moment
to raise that issue.

        When I returned to the mission, three letters awaited
me.  Two were from my parents but it was the third
that held my interest.  I recognized the handwriting. 
The mystery writer had struck again.


Chapter 13

"Well," Miss Alice said when I'd finished
reading the letter aloud.  It was at least the third
time she'd uttered that word in the last few minutes.

        "That's quite a story," David chimed in.

        That had been my reaction when I'd first read the
contents of this new letter.  It made perfect sense
and yet was one of the strangest tales I'd heard.  I'd
read the letter at least a dozen times that afternoon
and evening and was still amazed at its contents.  

        "So the mysterious author and sender of packages is a
friend of Jacob," Miss Alice said.  She retrieved the
poker and gently stoked the fire.  

        I fingered the three-page missive.  "It says he knew
Dr. Ferrand in seminary but gave up the ministry and
went into music."

        "The Boston Symphony, no less," David said.  "No
wonder he had such a beautiful instrument."

        "He never had children," Miss Alice continued, "and
apparently no one to whom to give his violin.  So he
consulted Jacob who gave him your name."

        When I'd received the violin without explanation, my
first thought had been that Dr. Ferrand couldn't be
angry with me about this donation, but now I was more
than a little surprised that he'd suggested any
donations be sent to me.  "Yes."  I leaned close to
the lamp and read aloud from the letter.  "It is my
hope that one of your students might come to love
music as I have."

        But the letter contained more than an explanation
from Mr. Richard Cutler.  It also held money – fifty
dollars in crisp bills.  The letter informed me that
this was the first installment of funds for music
lessons for a deserving young student.  "I
understand," Cutler had written, "that proper
instruction may be hard to come by in Cutter Gap but I
have tried to provide sufficient funds to enable at
least one interested student to have lessons and
perhaps someday attend conservatory."  He had enclosed
information on a bank account and the current balance
staggered me.  "I will trust you, Miss Christy
Huddleston, to use the money wisely.  Jacob assures me
this trust is not misplaced."

        I couldn't help but think of all the things this
money could buy – school supplies, books, clothing. 
But Mr. Cutler's wishes were clear and I knew I would
follow them even if I didn't fully agree.  "I wish I'd
been able to thank him," I said aloud.  

        The fire cracked and several of the logs shifted in
the pile.  "Didn't the letter say that it would be
mailed only after his death?" David asked.  

        I nodded.

        "Thee has a tremendous responsibility, Miss
Huddleston."

        "I know."  I was already thinking of how I would go
about finding a music teacher.  

        "I wonder why he sent the violin and then the music,
and then the letters?" David asked.

        "Maybe Jacob knows," Miss Alice said after a moment. 
"But I fear that mystery has died with Mr. Cutler."

****
        For three days, we’d endured downpours that made a
challenge out of walking even a few yards.  The ground
around the barn had turned into a quagmire and nearly
all of my shoes were coated in mud.  The mission roof
started leaking on the first day and we'd had to place
bowls and buckets throughout both floors to catch the
dripping water.  The weather had been so bad that I’d
been forced to cancel classes for several days.  With
the river swelling and the ground slick, it was unsafe
for my students to travel between their cabins and the
school.

        Finally, late yesterday afternoon, the rain stopped
and the sun appeared briefly through the clouds.  I
was pleased with the change for another reason -- John
and Bessie would have a beautiful day for their
wedding.  Although I remained discouraged about losing
two students, I’d prayed for the wisdom to accept what
John and Bessie had chosen for their lives and now
felt at least a measure of peace in their decision. 

        “Miz Christy!”  Ruby Mae shouted up at me from the
foot of the stairs.

        “I’ll be right down, Ruby Mae.”  I checked my hair
one last time in the glass and couldn’t help but
imagine how I would feel on my own wedding day.  Would
I be nervous?  Excited?  Fearful?  I wasn’t sure I was
ready for such a momentous event and wondered how
Bessie, who was barely fifteen, could manage.

        Downstairs in the parlor I found the bride sitting
calmly on the divan as Miss Alice primped her hair. 
Bessie had arrived at the mission early this morning
and started the day with a steaming bath.  Although
she'd initially been a bit apprehensive, after a few
moments luxuriating in the hot water with my scented
soap, we feared we'd never get her out.  Afterwards,
I’d loaned her my perfume.  Now Bessie wore her finest
dress, which we’d laundered a week earlier, and
probably her only pair of shoes.  

        Miss Alice looked at me over Bessie’s head as she
inserted another hairpin.  “I think that about does
it.  What does thee think, Miss Huddleston?”

        I’d never seen Bessie look more beautiful.  “You look
lovely, Bessie.  John will be speechless.”

        The girl gave me a radiant smile.  “Do you really
think so?"

        "I do indeed," Miss Alice answered then handed Bessie
a looking glass.  As Bessie stared into it, I could
see that even she was amazed at her tranformation. 
"Oh, Miz Christy," she gushed.  "I don't rightly know
what to say.  I'm much obliged to you and Miz
Henderson for making me so perty.”

        “Bessie, there’s one last thing I’d like you to have
for your wedding day,” I said and from behind my back
produced a lacy lilac shawl.  “I think this will go
nicely with your dress.”

        Bessie’s gaze immediately fell upon the delicate
garment.  “Oh Miz Christy, it’s beautiful.”  Her eyes
turned upward.  “I can’t take this.  You and Miz
Henderson already done so much—“

        Our eyes met and I knew we both remembered the days
so many months ago where Bessie’s inopportune words
nearly drove me from Cutter Gap.  God had given us the
courage to forgive each other and become strong
friends.  “Please.  It would mean so much to me if you
wore it.”  I helped her drape the shawl across her
shoulders.  “After all, you are my first student to
get married.”

        “I reckon I am."  Again she smiled broadly.  "Thank
you, Miz Christy.”
                
        Miss Alice reached to the side table and picked up a
small wreath of wildflowers.  “Now for the final
touch.”  She delicately placed it on Bessie’s head
then stood back to admire her work.  “Thee truly looks
like a bride.”

        The moment Bessie rose from her seat I saw her no
longer as a girl, but for the first time as a woman.

Chapter 14 

David had delivered a strong sermon and now John and
Bessie were husband and wife.  The pews were filled
and many men and children stood along the back and
sides of the church.  A mountain wedding was always a
community event, and few in Cutter Gap had missed this
opportunity to celebrate.  By the time we arrived at
the Spencer cabin, tables of food lined the yard.  It
took only a few minutes for Jeb and the other men to
set up their instruments.  I quickly scanned the small
crowd.

        I felt a presence at my elbow.  “Looking for
someone?”  It was David.

        “What?  Oh, no.”

        “I heard Dr. MacNeill had an emergency in Lufty
Branch.”

        So David had known exactly whom I was looking for. 
His tone was one of resignation rather than jealousy
and I wondered if this might signal a change in our
relationship.  “Really.”  I quickly focused my
attention on the group of dancers.  I spotted Opal and
Tom McHone, the Holts, and a host of others.  Even a
few of the children had taken up partners and were
doing their best to imitate the adults.  The way Ruby
Mae and Rob Allen acted toward one another made me
believe that another wedding might soon follow.  

        David nodded toward the dancers.  “I would ask you to
dance, but I don’t think my parishioners would take
kindly to their preacher engaging in such a sin.”  

        “It’s all right, David.”  I was certain he would like
to dance – especially with me -- but that he also
accepted the limitations of his position.  We watched
in silence for a few minutes until I noticed Orter
Ball striding across the grass toward Jeb Spencer.  “I
see someone I need to talk to.”

        “Don’t stay too long,” he warned as I started to move
away.  “You know the real festivities will start
soon.”

        Although this was my first Cutter Gap wedding,
Fairlight had warned me what to expect.  The
culmination of the festivities might be mountain
custom, but the thought of what would occur in the
Spencer cabin this afternoon still made me cringe.

        “I’ll be back at the mission long before anything
happens,” I replied over my shoulder, my attention
focused on Orter Ball who stood with the other
musicians, gracefully holding the new violin.  For
now, he seemed to be watching more than playing. 
Although I'd feared the worst after my talk with Jeb,
he'd surprised me by agreeing to teach Orter Ball what
he could.  Jeb worried that he'd teach Orter Ball bad
habits but I encouraged him nonetheless.  

        I'd explained the boy's interest in music and the
possibility of lessons to Swannie, being careful not
to promise too much too soon.  As I expected, she'd
been apprehensive about the boy traveling any distance
alone.  I would have to see whether an instructor
would be willing to come to El Pano.  If not, perhaps
Orter Ball could accompany Neil on his occasional
visits to Knoxville.  Surely someone there could teach
violin. 

        Orter Ball waited until the musicians had taken a
short food break before approaching me.  He still
clung to the violin.  "Might I get real violin
lessons, Miz Christy?" he asked, picking the strings.

        "I hope so Orter Ball.  We'll just have to see."

        "So some fellow way up north just up and decided I
should git lessons?"

        "Not exactly."  I'd already explained the generosity
of Mr. Cutler several times but Orter Ball and many
others in the Cove still didn't understand his
motivation.  "A very nice man wanted one of my
students here in Cutter Gap to be able to study music.
 But I still have to find a teacher and—"

        "You're a teacher."

        I smiled.  "Yes, I am.  But I don't know much about
music."

        "I sure don't git why someone would send this here
violin to someone he don't know."

        "He was obviously a very generous man."

        By now, the musicians were ready to resume playing
and Jeb called Orter Ball over.  When the boy trotted
off, I turned back toward the table for another piece
of chicken.  I nearly bumped into Neil.

        "Miss Huddleson," he said formally.

        "Dr. MacNeill, I didn't see you here earlier."

        "Just this moment arrived back from Lufty Branch." 
He grinned.  "But I'm pleased to see that you missed
me."

        I started to respond in kind but could think of
nothing intelligent to say.  "Uh, have you seen
Bessie?  Doesn’t she look beautiful?"

        He looked into the distance where Bessie was
congregated with some of the other women then turned
back until his eyes met mine.  "No more beautiful than
you."

        This time I was sure I turned a bright crimson and
quickly stared at my feet.  Once again the man had
managed to leave me speechless.  Just when I thought I
could counter his every move, he surprised me.

        "Did you hear John and Bessie will stay in the Cove?"
he asked as if the past minute hadn't happened.

        I nodded; Fairlight had shared the news several days
ago that John would take over Mr. Pentland's mail
route for at least a while.  Although the job would
keep John away from home for long stretches, Bessie
favored this over dangerous days in the coal mines. 
And it would allow them to stay in Cutter Gap, closer
to their families.  Still, I doubted that anyone
believed this would be a permanent position.  "When
will Mr. Pentland be able to start working again?" I
asked.

        Neil shook his head.  "Delivering mail?  Never. 
Maybe if he lived in a city, but I can't sanction him
crossing these mountains."

        In Cutter Gap, mail and Ben Pentland were always
mentioned in the same sentence.  I couldn't imagine
what else he'd do and said as much to Neil.

        "Well, he needn't be bedridden, Christy.  Maybe when
he's stronger he can help Jeb with his bees."  Neil
smiled and I couldn't decide if he was being serious.

        The musicians had started playing again and we both
turned toward the music.  Neil bent slightly at the
waist.  "Would you care to dance, Miss Huddleston?"  

        I looked around.  David stood several yards away and
I wondered how long he'd been watching us.  Small
groups of young men and women were starting to form
and I clearly understood what that meant.  The "real
festivities," as they were called, were about to
begin.

        Neil's eyes followed mine.  "I promise to have you
home in time, Christy," he said with a knowing smile. 


        I gave him my arm and we quickly joined the cluster
of couples in front of the musicians.  

        "What are you thinking about?"  Neil asked softly as
he twirled me in his arms.

        I looked at radiant smiles of John and Bessie as they
danced beside us and spoke the first word that came to
mind.  "Marriage."  

The End.