Disclaimer: Don't sue me because I'm using characters invented by Catherine Marshall. I am seeking no monetary gain from my efforts. Title: Doctors Make the Worst Patients “Scalpel, please.” Christy handed Neil the instrument, her fingers trembling slightly. She’d grown accustomed to occasionally assisting him in surgery but the sight of blood still gave her pause. “Hand me that needle and thread, will you?” Christy obeyed automatically, feeling almost detached from the entire scene. That she was part participant, part spectator to the surgery. It had all started that afternoon when Isaak McHone had burst into the mission house looking for help. Opal was suffering from pains in her side and Tom wasn’t due home for another hour or two. Christy had been the only one home. She send Isaak home and after saddling Buttons, she’d ridden to Neil’s cabin to fetch him. After arriving at the McHone cabin, Neil had quickly diagnosed the problem as an appendicitis. Miss Alice was in Big Lick so Christy was the only one available to assist him with the operation. “She’s doing fine,” Neil told her, glancing at Christy’s pale face. “Relax. I’m closing now.” Giving herself a small shake, Christy grabbed the cloth hanging on her apron and wiped Neil’s brow. She was glad it was almost over. She wanted to make sure the children were all right. Moving away from the makeshift operating table, Neil coughed into his sleeve. Christy had noticed he had a cold. But it did nothing to impair his skill. As soon as Opal was made comfortable in her bed, Neil turned to Tom. He’s arrived home while Christy had fetched Neil. “She’s come through it fine, Tom. But she needs rest and to stay still. Don’t want to tear those stitches.” “You sure, Doc?” Tom asked, his brow furrowed with worry. “She’s gonna wake up alright, ain’t she?” “I promise, Opal is in no danger,” Neil assured his friend. Then he sneezed, wiping his nose with a handkerchief. “I’ll be back early in the morning to check in on her.” Christy gave Isaak a hug. “You did the right thing by coming to the mission house. You saved your mother’s life.” The boy blushed but a glow of pride shone with it. “Ma woulda done it for me.” Neil turned from Tom and leaned over Christy’s shoulder. “Yes, she would have. But you knew something was wrong and acted quickly. That’s why you’re mother’s recovery will be fast. Good work, lad.” As Christy and Neil left the McHone cabin, Christy tugged on Neil’s sleeve. “Neil, you’ve got to go home and get some sleep. You’re sick.” “And do you think I’m going to let your ride home alone in th’ dark, Miss Huddleston,” Neil asked, one sandy eyebrow raised in defiance. “I won’t have my best assistant getting lost on the back side of the mountain.” “Neil, this is ridiculous,” Christy countered, her hands planted squarely on her hips. “It’s not really that far. Buttons knows the way well enough now. She could probably do it in her sleep.” “Christy, you can save your breath,” Neil calmly said, a ghost of a smile on his weary face. “I’m not letting you go home alone. But I do have a compromise to propose.” “And what’s that?” “We’ll go to my cabin. You can sleep in my room and I’ll sleep in my laboratory. I’ve done it enough times. ” Christy paused. His idea made sense but something inside her hesitated. What if someone found out? She’s already nearly lost her job once because someone had seen her by the river with him. This was even worse. “Christy, we’re both exhausted,” Neil sighed, stretching his shoulders. “If anyone sees us, they can talk to Tom. He’ll see them straight about what we were doing tonight.” Christy heard the wisdom in his words and reluctantly agreed. David would have a fit but she didn't care. Neil needed to be at home with his feet in a hot basin of water. Not standing there arguing with her in the chill of the night. Neil mounted Charlie and Christy followed suite on Buttons. ** “You want me to do what?” “Neil, you’ve got a cold. I said go put on your pajamas and bathrobe while I heat this water for your feet.” “Have you gone mad, woman? Do y’expect me to let you order me around in my own house?” Christy felt her temper flaring and held it in check. The man truly must have mule blood in his family somewhere. “Some people would consider it a kindness, Doctor. If you want to continue feeling miserable, you’re quite welcome to do so. Neil sighed, coughing again. He looked worn out. He’d told her on the way to his cabin that he’d been up the night before delivering a set of twins in Low Gap. Fatigue was evident in every line of his body. “Go on, Neil. The water’s almost ready.” “Very well,” he said, turning away abruptly. “But don’t go telling people I let you bully me into this.” Christy felt a smile tugging the corners of her mouth and murmured, “I wouldn’t think of it.” While Neil was in his room, Christy prepared hot tea and added some honey. Her mother always fixed it for her when she was had a cold. She knew he’d prefer a dose of whiskey in it but she had no idea where he kept such things. She wandered over to the Victrola, noticing a light layer of dust covered it. Obviously Neil hadn’t been listening to it. Probably too busy visiting his patients, she thought. Oddly enough, they’d seen more of Neil around the mission lately. He would come by in the evenings at times to talk to David, asking questions about the Bible. He’d even shown up at services from time to time. Christy prayed that Neil’s curiosity would blossom into a desire to know Jesus on a personal level. She sensed David was also gaining value from their talks, stretching his mind outside of what the seminary had taught him. She put a record on, a Chopin piano piece, and cranked up the Victrola. It played softly as Neil came shuffling out in his robe and carpet slippers. He was muttering under his breath. “I should’ve taken you back to the mission,” he said, falling back into his favorite battered armchair. “I’m no good at taking orders from a woman.” “Then it’ll be good practice for you,” Christy said firmly, pushing the mug of hot tea into his hands. “Drink this.” Neil complied, taking a long sip. He put the mug aside and asked testily, “Where’s the whiskey?” Christy frowned, taking the mug from him. “I’ll leave the administration of spirits to you, Doctor. You could use the honey more for your sour mood.” “Just as well,” Neil countered before coughing. “I think you’re enjoying this far too much. I wouldn’t want you to get me tipsy.” Ignoring his remark, Christy pushed a deep basin across the floor and knelt beside his chair. “Now put your feet in there so I can bring the water over.” Neil grugdingly complied and Christy poured the hot water over Neil’s feet. He yelped and jerked his feet up out of the water. “That’s boiling hot!” “Quit being a baby,” Christy said. “I tested that water. You’re just being difficult. Now put your feet back in…that’s it. My mother was right. Doctors make the worst patients.” Shooting her a stern look, Neil eased his feet back into the water. As he grew accustomed to the heat, Christy could tell it was relaxing him. The lines in his face were easing and he leaned back in the chair, sighing. “Now just relax. I’m going to make you a little something to eat.” Neil muttered something incoherent and Christy left him. She went into the kitchen and found the makings for biscuit dough set aside under a damp towel. She was rolling it out when she spied an old, worn book on the window sill. Dusting off her hands, Christy gently picked it up. It was a Bible, clearly, and one that had seen many years of use. She glanced over her shoulder to see if Neil was watching. But he was fast asleep in the chair, his mouth slightly open and his hair falling over his broad forehead. With gentle hands, Christy opened the Bible and found a list of names and dates in the front. It had clearly been used by many McNeills over the generations. With her finger, she followed the chronicle of births, marriages, and deaths until her eyes fell on the bottom line in the list of births. “Neil Angus McNeill, born September 7, 1879, Cutter Gap, Tenn.” Christy nearly dropped the book, her fingers trembling. Today was Neil’s birthday! And he hadn’t said a single word about it! As Christy slowly closed the worn volume, she puzzled over it. The only person who likely knew about Neil’s birthday was Hattie. Neil had mentioned visiting her the day before. Perhaps that was why. But what about today? Had anyone remembered? Had anyone sent him a card or stopped in to wish him well? Birthdays were special in the Huddleston household. Her father had always come up with something new every year. Nothing elaborate but definitely original. On her eighteenth birthday, he had brought her a bouquet with 18 different varieties of roses. To not recognize a birthday was tantamount to breaking a law in her family. But what about Neil? He’d been up for hours, delivering twins and operating on Opal. The poor man was half sick himself, sniffling in his sleep. Christy’s heart sank knowing that she was the only one who likely knew. Well, she wasn’t going to let the opportunity pass her by so easily. Throwing openi the cupboard doors, Christy steeled herself for what she might find, be it a stocked shelf or a spider’s web. Either way, she had her work cut out for her. ** Neil stirred, felt the warmth of the fire permeating his body, lulling him. But his feet felt wet. That was odd. He lifted one slowly and heard the dribble of water coming off of it. Then he remembered. Christy Huddleston had turned from a sweet, tenacious school teacher into a no-nonsense drill sergeant the moment they’d arrived at his cabin. She’d nearly burned his toes off, too. But he had to admit he felt better for having slept a little. His swollen sinuses weren’t working very well but he knew something was baking. Something good. The table was set and a different record was playing on the Victrola. Christy’s neat figure moved about the kitchen, her light step silent. She saw he was awake and came toward him. “So you’re awake, Mr. Van Winkle,” Christy teased. “I was afraid you were going to sleep away your supper.” Neil smiled for the first time that day, felt the warmth of her voice in his very bones. Until now, itt had been a day he didn’t want to repeat. “I never turn down a good meal, Christy. You should know that." She chuckled. “Even after I made you suffer through my burnt chicken surprise?” “Even then,” Neil assured her, rising from the chair. Christy handed him a towel to dry his feet and his carpet slippers. “ Moment later, Neil was digging into a bowl of vegetable soup and biscuits. Nothing had tasted so good to him before. “I thought they said starve a cold, feed a fever,” Christy said with a grin, leaning on her elbows. “It’s terrible when doctors can’t follow their own advice.” “I’d ignore it all to have this,” Neil said, wiping his mouth with a napkin. “It’s delicious.” “Thank you. You have to admit I make a pretty good nurse,” Christy said, watching him eat. “And that you make a terrible patient.” “I admit it freely,” Neil said before swallowing the last drop of soup. “I’m sorry, Christy. I appreciate all you’ve done for me, at the McHones and here. You have to remember, I’ve been on my own here for some time. I’m not used to being fussed over.” A faint blush crept into Chisty’s cheek. Neil thought it made her look very young and very lovely. “Well…someone needs to fuss over you. You’d have pneumonia by now if you didn’t have me picking on you like this.” “What time is it? You ought t’be getting some sleep, lass.” “Close to 11 p.m.” “It’s that late? I meant t’ ask if they’ll be sending out a search party for you.” “Nobody’s home. Ruby Mae’s spending the night at Bessie’s and David’s in El Pano until tomorrow morning. Only the chickens will miss me.” Neil laughed, thinking how he could get used to seeing Christy across the table from him like this every day. Her dark blue eyes were luminous in the glow of the kerosene lamp. He’d been thinking about that lately. Asking himself questions. About many things. Even God. Christy rose from the table, picking up his bowl and plate. He put on his hand to stop her. “You can leave those. I’ll do them later.” “But there’s more,” she said, a hint of mystery in her voice. “And I can’t put it on the table if it’s full of dishes. Close your eyes.” Neil complied, wondering what she was up to now. He waited, listening to her move about the kitchen, opening drawers and sliding something on the counter. “If you don’t hurry, I’ll fall asleep again.” “Don’t you dare. Only a minute more…wait….okay, open your eyes.” He looked down and his eyes widened. On the plate in front of him was a gingerbread man, iced perfectly. A small candle was stuck in his middle, the flame flickering. A wave of happy memories flooded his mind. He hadn’t had gingerbread since he was a boy, a treat his mother used to make for him. She used to warn him not to bite off the head first but he always did “Christy, what’s this for?” She smiled, her features softening as she watched him. “It’s for your birthday, Neil.” Neil’s face flushed as he realized she was right. He’d totally forgotten that today was his birthday! He truly was growing daft. How had she known? As if reading his mind, Christy sat down in her chair. “I was looking through your family Bible and realized it was today. Forgive me for not saying something sooner but I didn’t know.” “How could you know,” Neil murmured slowly, amazed. “I can’t believe you did this for me. “You’d better blow out the candle before Mr. Gingerbread becomes your next patient.” Neil blew it out then, knowing Christy had no idea what his wish was at that moment. That she would be with him always in that kitchen, sharing his evenings. That their lives would be joined together. “There’s one more surprise,” Christy said, pulling out a scroll of paper tied with a string. “I had to do I quickly but it’s the best I could do on short notice and an ordinary pencil.” He took it, his finger lightly brushing her hand. “Christy, you didna have to do all this.” Her eyes met his and they held. “But I wanted to, Neil.” Her words were answer enough and he unrolled the paper, his eyes scanning it almost greedily. She’d sketched him asleep in his armchair, feet in the basin. She’d captured the nuances of his face relaxed in sleep, the fire crackling in the hearth behind him. His saddle bags were lying nearby and his pipe rested on the hearth beside the clock. “Read the caption at the bottom,” she said. His eyes found the words and he chuckled: “The Doctor Is Out. Aye, truer words were never spoken.” Neil was silent then, contemplating the woman so near him. No one else had done anything like this for him since his mother died. No one had cared. No one but Christy. The importance of that fact was not lost on him. Taking her hand in his, Neil grasped it gently. His eyes mirrored his admiration, his continuing awareness of how special she was to him. “Happy birthday, Neil Angus McNeill,” she murmured softly. A slow smile curved his lips. “It is now, Christy Huddleston.” The End!