Title: HE WHO WISHES
Author: Susie Brown
Disclaimer: This story is written for entertainment only. The characters
of Christy belong to the LeSourd Family.  I am in no way seeking profit
from the continuation of the story.  I have also used the poem “He who
wishes for the cloths of Heaven” by WB Yeats. It is not my intention to
infringe copyright by quoting this work.  
----------------------------------------------------------------------

It was a beautiful Spring afternoon in Cutter Gap, but Christy
Huddleston hardly noticed. She was deep in thought as she walked through
the mountain countryside. In her hand she carried the latest letter from
her father in Asheville. It was bright and cheery and full of news, but
from reading his words, Christy could tell how much he missed her. She
missed him too. Most of the time she was happy in Cutter Gap, but
sometimes she wondered if she had made the right decision to leave her
family and come so far away. She liked the idea of being independent,
but on days like this, she just felt young, insecure and homesick.

Christy gazed around her. She had been thinking and walking for so long
that she suddenly felt very tired. The grass beneath her looked soft and
inviting.
I’ll just stop for a rest, she thought and sat down. The sun was warm on
her face and a gentle breeze blew through her hair. Slowly relaxing,
Christy lay down and stretched out. In no time at all, she was asleep.
****
“Christy! CHRISTY!”
Christy awoke, dazed and confused, to see Neil MacNeill kneeling beside
her. Both of his hands gripped her shoulders, his blue eyes fixed on her
face.
“Are you hurt? What happened?”
Gently, Neil helped Christy sit up.
“I’m fine, Neil. Really I am. I just fell asleep.”

Neil stood up abruptly.
“Blast you, woman! And here I was thinking you were seriously hurt! You
fell asleep?!”
Christy turned away from him. Maybe it was the shock of being woken so
suddenly, or just that she was still feeling painfully homesick, but she
was going to cry.

“You needn’t worry about me, Doctor. I’m just fine.”
“Well of course I was worried! Who wouldn’t be? All I could see was you
lying on the grass, not moving, with your eyes closed. I thought you’d
been attacked or bitten or even shot! What possessed you to - “
Neil broke off his tirade, noticing the tears that Christy was trying
desperately to brush away. He moved toward her instinctively.
“Ah, Christy, don’t cry lass. I didn’t mean to shout at you. I’m sorry.”
“It’s not you, Neil.”
“Then what is it? Please tell me. Maybe I can help.”

Christy turned to him. Neil knelt down, took off his jacket and spread
it out on the grass, indicating to her that she should sit upon it.
Smiling at his gallantry, Christy accepted his outstretched hand,
allowing herself to be drawn down next to him on the grass. Gently Neil
brushed away her remaining tears with his index finger, his eyes never
leaving hers for a moment.
“That’s better,” he said softly. “Now why don’t you tell me what’s
troubling you?”

Christy took a deep breath.
“There really isn’t anything wrong. I received a letter from Daddy this
morning -”
“Is he all right? He hasn’t had a relapse?”
Neil had treated William Huddleston after his stroke the previous
Thanksgiving and had been encouraged by news of his progress.
“No Neil, nothing like that. He’s fine. His letter is full of news from
Asheville and he and Mother have been getting out quite a bit. It’s just
that he misses me, Neil. And all of a sudden I felt very young and far
away and..well, homesick. You must think me very foolish.”
“Why, because you miss your parents?” Neil asked gently.  “Of course I
don’t. But Christy,” Neil covered her hand with his own, “your parents
are not the only people who love you.You must know that.” 
As she looked up at him, wondering if she had heard him correctly, his
hand moved away once more.

They sat in silence for a few moments. Suddenly, Christy spoke.
“Neil, did you always want to be a Doctor?”
Neil grinned.
“An intriguing question, Miss Huddleston. Why do you ask?”
“I was just interested.”
“Well, I was always fascinated by Science and angered by sickness and
disease. I saw it claim my Aunt Hattie’s sight and take my Uncle and
cousins away from her. I always wanted to prevent suffering. So yes, I
suppose I did always want to be a Doctor.”
Christy nodded.
“I didn’t always want to teach. I just knew that I didn’t want to end up
a society wife, attending tea parties and discussing fashion. I wanted
to make a difference, to see something of the world. When I met Miss
Alice, she was so inspiring. I came here without a second thought and
now I love teaching, I really do. But sometimes I wonder if I am doing
the right thing. Am I making a difference to these children and their
families? I make so many mistakes, Neil. Do I actually help them?”

She looked away, but Neil turned her to face him once more.
“Of course you help them!” His grip was strong, his voice insistent.
“You have taught them to read, to count, to write their names. But more
than that, you’ve encouraged them to believe in themselves and to dream
of what they can be.” He softened his voice as he released his hold on
her arms. “We all make mistakes, Christy. We don’t all inspire others.”

Christy gazed at him gratefully, her eyes shining.
“Thank you Neil,” she said. “Thank you so much.”
He returned her smile.
“Now, Miss Huddleston, I have a question for you. Have you heard of a
man called Yeats?”
“Who?”
“Yeats. WB Yeats.”
Christy thought for a moment. Then she remembered.
“Why yes, I believe he’s an Irish poet.”
“Correct. Have you read any of his work?”
“No, I haven’t.”
“I think that there is one poem you would like very much. Yeats wrote it
about fifteen years ago. Would you like to hear it?”
“Yes. Please.”
Neil cleared his throat, moved a little closer to her and began to
speak.
 
“ Had I the heavens’ embroidered cloths,
Enwrought with golden and silver light,
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of night and light and the half light
I would spread the cloths under your feet:
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly, for you tread on my dreams.”

As he recited, Christy forgot everything but the soft lilt in his voice
and the power in his eyes. The words were not his own, but he was
speaking from his heart, directly into her own. She could hardly
breathe. Never before had she felt like this. Suddenly, she realised
that Neil had finished speaking and was looking intently at her. Christy
swallowed hard.She was quite sure she was blushing, but somehow, it
didn’t matter.

“Neil, that was beautiful. I will never forget it.”
He smiled at her.
“Christy,now I must ask you to promise me two things.”
“Of course. If I can.”
“First, you must keep those words to think on whenever you doubt
yourself.”
“I will. And the second thing?”
“The second thing is much more serious, I’m afraid.” He leant closer, as
if about to share a secret. “ No matter what happens, you must never,
EVER tell a living soul that Neil MacNeill, Doctor of Cutter Gap, was
heard reciting poetry written by an Irishman!”  He winked at her
mischievously. “Just think of my reputation!”
Christy laughed.
“Never fear, Doctor,” she said. “Your secret is safe with me.”

The sun was beginning to sink low in the sky. Reluctantly, Neil stood,
holding out his hand to Christy to help her up. Once she was on her
feet, Neil brought her hand to his lips and kissed it tenderly.
“Tread softly,lass,” he whispered.

Christy watched him ride away. Then with a smile on her lips and joy in
her heart, she set off towards the Mission. Towards home.  

THE END