............
DISCLAIMER: 
Catherine Marshall's beautiful story of Christy is owned by the
LeSourd family. I am in no way seeking profit or credit for her
story. I am continuing the story of Christy for my own amusement
only. Any additions in story line and characters were invented by the
writer. 




.......................
MirrorFic: Beautiful
  by Annie
.......................

I kept looking at myself in the mirror, and it never got any better,
no matter what angle I chose.  What was I going to do?

I had no idea what the large, hand-carved brooch was supposed to be
-- I couldn't even guess which side was the top.  Sam Houston had
been sweetly earnest when he gave it to me, and he seemed to think I
recognized it.  The faded blue ribbon that was attached to the clumsy
wooden ornament didn't improve the looks at all.

Ruby Mae sat on my bed, her head tilted to one side as I struggled
with the pin.  "Miss Christy, do you hafta wear that?  There ain't no
two ways about it -- it's ugly as sin."

I turned to face her.  "Ruby Mae, you are not to talk like that, do
you hear?  Sam Houston went to a lot of trouble to make this for me
to wear at his baby brother's christening.  I can't insult him."

"I know, but..."

By the time we descended the stairs, Ruby Mae had promised not to
mention the brooch any more, but I was feeling self-conscious.  She
left for the church while I kept fussing, hoping to find some way of
sprucing it up.

David came in, wearing his Sunday suit with a new shirt, collar, and
tie.  His hair was combed neatly, and he must have worked hard to get
a high polish on his shoes.

"Are you ready?"  His eyes were immediately drawn to my blouse, where
the brooch was pinned.  "What is that thing?"

"Oh, not you, too!" I said.  "It's from Sam Houston.  He made it for
me."

David's laugh stirred up my temper.  "Christy, you haven't forgotten
that Doctor Ferrand is here for this service, and you're going to
stand up in front of everyone to read the Scriptures."

"I know," I said, feeling angry at David, and then at myself for
being so worried about my outward appearance.  "I promised to wear
this, and I'm not going back on my word."

"But it's so... huge."  David covered his mouth as he laughed again. 
"And that ribbon...  What's it supposed to be?"

"David, please!  Let's just go to the church."

As soon as I set foot on the porch I remembered I'd left my hat in my
bedroom.  I sent David on without me -- I think he was relieved that
he didn't have to be seen with me and my hideous brooch.  I had to
remind myself that it was the thought behind the gift that was
important.  I couldn't hurt the feelings of a child.

When I came out of the house, I was surprised to see Neil MacNeill
penning his horse in our corral.  He looked very handsome in a light
blue shirt and dark brown trousers.  The usual mud spots were absent
from his legs and boots.

"Neil, are you coming to the christening?"

"Why not?  I delivered this baby," he said.  "I like to keep track of
my patients, you know."

He studied the brooch, and I braced myself for a cutting remark.  He
seemed serious, though sometimes Neil kept a straight face while he
teased me.  I didn't know what to expect, but I was ready to snap at
him.

"Who gave you that?" he asked.

"Sam Houston, and if you say one word--"

"Do you know what the carving is?"

I stared at him to make sure he wasn't mocking me.  "No.  Do you
know?"

"It's a bird, flying with a branch in its beak.  It could be either a
dove or an owl -- it's hard to tell what Sam Houston meant."

I looked at my brooch, trying to see a bird in the bumps and
scratches.  As I moved the ribbon aside, the poor bow came apart and
drooped down.

"Oh no," I said.

"May I?"  In half a minute, Neil had neatly tied it up.  At least the
loops of the bow were even this time.

"Thank you.  How did you know what it was?" I asked.  "I wasn't even
sure I had the right side up."

"It's a mountain tradition.  The bird's a sign of good luck, or
protection, or blessing."  He was gazing at the brooch rather
wistfully.  "When I was a boy no older than Sam Houston, I carved one
for my mother.  I think mine was even worse than this, but she never
let on."

It didn't seem ugly any more.  I fingered my present, imagining Neil
as a little boy.  When I glanced up, his eyes were on my face.  He
had often made me blush, but today I met his look comfortably.  I
slipped my arm under his, and we walked slowly toward the footbridge.

"Neil?  Why did Sam Houston give it to me instead of his mother?"

"He thinks the world of you, with good reason."  There was something
in his voice that stirred a warm feeling in me.  Neil pressed his
hand over mine and looked down with a smile.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Don't you know how you touch people's hearts?  I'm only surprised
you don't have a long line of boys with crushes on you."

We had reached the meadow, and were nearing a group of people
gathered for the christening.  Sam Houston ran toward us.

"You wore it, Teacher!"

"Of course I did," I said.  "I want everyone to see it."

"I know it ain't that good or nothin'," Sam Houston said, kicking in
the dirt.

"I think it's beautiful," I said.  The boy's face lit up and he raced
back to his family.

I took a step toward the church, but Neil didn't move.  My arm was
still linked with his, so I had to wait.  He was looking at me
thoughtfully, and I became a little embarrassed.

"I meant what I said.  I'm honored that he thought of me," I said,
feeling my cheeks grow warm under his steady gaze.  "What is it?"

"I wish I'd thought of it first."


*** THE END ***