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.  Any characters that 
are invented for the purposes of this Fanfic were created by the author.

Title: Going Home Part 
Author: Betty 
Email: JBKITT@email.msn.com
Summary: Cutter Gap- 1914-1937 Neil receives an invitation.

Part 1

Many changes had occurred in Cutter Gap by 1937, my twenty-fifth year 
teaching school. World War I brought about the first noticeable changes 
in Cutter Gap. Many of the young men I had taught in school signed up 
for military service, and some, including Will Holt, did not return. 
Will left his wife of four years, Ruby Mae, widowed at age twenty, with 
three young children to raise. By 1920, Rob Allen, who served in the 
same unit with Will and watched as German bullets took his life, married 
Ruby Mae. He was a wonderful father to Ruby Mae's three children, Pearl, 
Willie, and Daisy. He and Ruby Mae went on to have two more children, 
Robbie and Mossie. In 1925, they moved to Knoxville, were Rob went on to 
become a successful short story author.

In the spring of 1922, David received word from Ida that their mother 
had been taken ill with cancer. David immediately returned to 
Pennsylvania, arriving just weeks before his mother's passing. Shortly 
thereafter, David wrote to Miss Alice, explaining that there was great 
need for a pastor in one of the larger churches in Philadelphia and he 
would not be returning to Cutter Gap. This was no surprise to Miss 
Alice, who always felt David would be happier somewhere other than the 
Cove. David continued to keep in touch. I received a letter from him in 
February of 1926, telling of his subsequent marriage to a Miss Ashley 
Pennington, a refined woman whose father owned the largest shipyard in 
Philadelphia. After many unsuccessful years, they discovered Ashley was 
unable to bear children. David took this as a sign from God that his 
focus should remain on the church and His work.

John Spencer, who also served in War World I, was so moved by the 
devastation and destruction he witnessed in Europe, that upon returning 
to Cutter Gap in 1919, he immersed himself in the Bible and received 
endless amounts of individual instruction from David. Upon David's 
departure and before Miss Alice had a opportunity to write to the 
American Inland Mission to request another pastor, John spoke with her 
and expressed his desire to become Cutter Gap's next Reverend. He was 
very passionate in explaining that he felt God had called him to serve 
in His work in Cutter Gap. Miss Alice was touched by his zeal for God's 
work and immediately gave him the position. John and his wife, Bessie, 
were the answer the people of Cutter Gap needed. Having grown up in the 
Cove, they understood the ways and beliefs of the highlanders, and 
guided them accordingly.

The next noticeable change in Cutter Gap came about in 1933, at the 
height of the Great Depression. Farming families all around the country 
were affected by the plummeting agricultural prices. Cutter Gap was no 
exception. That year, five families moved out of the Cove, including the 
Holcombe's and McHone's. Some moved to Cincinnati, Ohio, where there 
were rumors of industrial work. Others moved as far as California, where 
they worked as field labor in the orange groves and grape vineyards. 
Those who took a chance and stayed in Cutter Gap were able to meek out a 
living off the land with no need for money.

By 1937, Neil and I had raised our three children. We watched as our 
eldest, Anna, graduated from Harvard Medical School, then  received an 
internship at Atlanta's Women and Children's Hospital. I don't think 
Neil could have been more proud. Our second child, Neal, worked in 
Cutter Gap as a craftsman, but continually spoke of wanting to join the 
Navy. Although it had long been peacetime, I was dead set against this 
after hearing war horror stories from John Spencer and Rob Allen. At my 
request, Neal agreed to put his decision off for another year. By April 
of 1937, our youngest, Charlie, received a football scholarship from the 
University of Pittsburgh, where he would major in agricultural science. 
Even as a child, Charlie's hands were always covered with soil. Before 
the age of fifteen and demanding no help from Neil and I, Charlie had 
successfully farmed two acres of tobacco and corn on our land. I had no 
doubt Charlie would someday return to Cutter Gap and teach others all 
the secrets of farming he had learned in college.

The same week that Charlie received the letter from Pittsburgh, Neil 
also received an important letter. It was from one of his distant 
relatives, Robert Lister MacNeill, an American citizen and 45th Chief of 
the MacNeill Clan. Robert recently purchased most of the Island of 
Barra, including Kisimul, the ancestral castle of the MacNeill's. The 
Clan MacNeill ruled Barra for 800 years, until 1838, when the 41st 
Chief, Roderick the General, was forced to sell due to financial 
hardship. After 99 years outside of the family, Kisimul fell into 
disrepair due to fire and vandalism. Now back in the possession of the 
Clan, Robert was finishing reparations on Kisimul, and sent out 
invitations of a grand celebration  to 100 direct descendants of 
MacNeill Chiefs, including Neil, who was a direct descendant of the 40th 
chief, Roderick the Gentle. As I watched Neil read this invitation, I 
could see his chest swell with pride. It had long been a dream of his to 
return to Scotland, the land of his ancestors. With a little planning 
and hopefully much of God's intervention, I knew this was my opportunity 
to make Neil's dream come true.
**********************************************************************
Summary: Christy's plan comes together- with a little help.

Part II

With little discussion, or hope, about going to Scotland, Neil tucked 
the envelope in his desk drawer. Days later, I retrieved the letter, 
copied the address, then wrote to Robert MacNeill, saying we were 
delighted to receive his invitation and would be arriving in Scotland 
during the second week of June, in time to attend the unveiling and 
celebration of Kisimul. It was a bold move on my part. I had yet to 
check train schedules and ticket prices for ocean liners. Just the 
thought of crossing the massive Atlantic on an ocean liner sent me into 
a minor panic. I would never forget the tragic sinking of the Titanic or 
the unimaginable number of souls lost, all because there were not enough 
life boats. But I would not allow my fear to deter me.  I was determined 
to get Neil to Scotland.

Luckily, I had three wonderful co-conspirators to help me hatch my plot. 
Anna, who was home for summer vacation before her internship began in 
September, was in charge of the finances. Any trips she would need to 
take to Asheville would not be questioned by Neil. I, on the other hand, 
could not get away this easily, especially with school still in session. 
As my plan unfolded, I called the bank in Asheville, and gave them 
instructions to allow Anna to withdraw any amount of funds she needed. 
Unfortunately, it wasn't going to be this easy. Anna would have to 
travel to Asheville, sign a few documents, return to Cutter Gap with 
more documents needing my signature, then return once more to Asheville 
to withdraw the money.

As for our finances, Neil had long been receiving close to $55 a week 
from Walter Reed Hospital. It was imperative for them to have a doctor 
"in the field" as Neil put it. They learned a great deal from his 
research on trachoma, glaucoma, and the effects of diabetes on the eyes, 
and had Neil under contract to work for them in increments of five 
years. Every five years, Neil would receive a new contract and a pay 
increase. Two hundred and twenty dollars a month was an unheard of 
amount of money for any inhabitant of Cutter Gap to make, which is why 
our home had electricity, a telephone, a modern icebox, an indoor 
kitchen pump, a clawfoot bathtub, and indoor "facilities" (which had 
pipes leading to a deep hole Neil had dug fifty yards from the house, 
then covered with nailed down planks. It was somewhat primitive for the 
times, but with no other means of indoor plumbing or sewers in the Cove, 
it worked quite nicely.) Combined, Neil and I brought home $265 a month. 
Even with college tuition for Anna, I managed to put away $30 a month 
for the past 12 years, which I wired to the National Bank of Asheville 
every month, without Neil suspecting. I was shocked when Anna returned 
from Asheville with the necessary legal papers, and relayed the news 
that I had accumulated $4,320 plus interest!  At first I thought I would 
faint! Instead, I leaped from my chair, grabbed Anna by the hands and 
danced around the house with her. We whopped and laughed like two people 
who just unearthed a new diamond mine! If my calculations were correct, 
Neil and I could travel first class to Scotland. 

Charlie was in charge of obtaining train arrival and departure times 
from El Pano, to Knoxville, to New York City. From there, he was to find 
an ocean liner departing from New York to Great Britain within the first 
week of June. After all this was arranged, he was to acquire the 
necessary tickets. Charlie was on the telephone so much, his father was 
beginning to suspect he had a sweetheart in another city! Charlie and I 
both thought this to be quite funny, since he had long courted Peggy Ann 
Robertson right here in Cutter Gap. But Neil took the issue quite 
seriously and even set Charlie down to have a man-to-man discussion with 
him about how cruel it was to be seeing another woman while seriously 
courting another. Try as Charlie might, he could not convince Neil that 
Peggy Ann was the only one. Luckily, Charlie had a great sense of humor 
and was willing to play out the charade until our departure for 
Scotland.

Neal, who traveled quite often throughout Mississippi, Tennessee and 
North Carolina, selling his furniture and handicrafts to small shops 
along the way, was the obvious one to find a doctor to replace his 
father during the entire month of June. Neal seemed to know everyone 
within 75 miles of Cutter Gap. It didn't take him long to find Dr. Frank 
Woodall, a 42 year old physician from Mississippi, who was in desperate 
need of a month long vacation. Miss Alice agreed to allow him to stay at 
the Mission, where he would have the freedom to fish, hunt, or hike 
daily. After all, the highlanders were still wary of outsiders, so Anna 
was there for the minor accidents, but Dr. Woodall would be there in 
case of an extreme emergency.

By May 19, everything was in place. Every year since our marriage, Neil 
and I celebrated our anniversary with a private candlelit dinner and an 
evening without the children. But this, our 23rd wedding anniversary, 
was something special and I insisted the children be there. Neil thought 
it was because I was experiencing empty nest syndrome; both Anna and 
Charlie would be leaving us in September. It wasn't until during dessert 
that our smiles gave away our conspiracy. The children each handed him 
an envelope wrapped in red ribbon. The first contained two sets of train 
tickets and two first class tickets on the ocean liner RMS Queen Mary; 
the second held a letter from Dr. Woodall, outlining his agreement to 
substitute for Neil during his absence; and the third envelope was 
stuffed with 10 one-hundred dollar bills. 

The entire room was silent as Neil neatly laid the contents of each 
envelope out in front of him on the table. He cleared his throat as if 
preparing to make a speech then stated quietly, "I don't know how you 
rapscallions did it." He paused as he lit his pipe and contemplatingly 
ran his hand over his chin. The children and I waited on pins and 
needles for his response. A smile spread across his face as he 
continued, "But it looks like we're going to Scotland!" With that, 
whoops and hollers from Neal and Charlie rattled the windows. Neil 
pulled me from my chair and swung me so swiftly, my feet flew behind me 
in the air. It was a lively time in the MacNeill household as Charlie 
cranked up big-band dance music on the radio. Neil grabbed Anna and 
twirled her around the kitchen table. My big, brawny sons swept me off 
my feet and, like a sack of flour, tossed me between them until I 
laughed so hard tears poured from my eyes and between breathless 
laughter, begged to be put down. Of all my anniversaries, this was the 
one I would cherish forever.

**********************************************************************
Summary: Neil and Christy arrive in New York; board their ship; Neil 
surprises Christy.

Part III

Neil and I arrived in New York City on Friday, June 4. We hailed a taxi 
and went directly from the train depot to New York harbor. As we made 
our way through the bustling noisy city, I was struck by the extreme 
ranges between poverty and opulence. On one avenue,  long lines of 
gaunt, sad faces waited to receive a few loaves of bread and  five pound 
chunks of U.S. surplus cheese. Groups of small children clung to their 
mothers skirts as fathers, whose downcast eyes hid their despair and 
pride, were handed small wooden crates filled with just enough food to 
get their families through a few more days. Bare storefronts and out of 
business signs sporadically dotted the avenue, all residual affects of 
the clinging Depression.  Yet, just a block or two away, women in crisp 
Chanel suits and wide brimmed hats dined in outdoor cafes. Men in three 
piece suits and freshly shined shoes smoked thick cigars as they 
boisterously debated the fate of their stocks. A twinge of shame coursed 
through me as I thought of the great amount of money I spent on this 
trip, money which could very easily have fed a family for a year or 
more. But as I squeezed Neil's hand, I thought about the sacrifices he 
had made all his life, not only for the people of Cutter Gap but also 
for me and our children. He lovingly kissed my hand then wrapped his arm 
around my shoulders as he excitedly pointed out the Empire State 
Building. At this moment I knew, he was worth every penny and much, much 
more. 

My stomach filled with butterflies as we neared the harbor. Ship horns 
and tugboat whistles pierced the air. A mass of people hurried about. 
Our taxi passed pier after pier until I caught sight of our ship, the 
ocean liner RMS Queen Mary. Her enormity left me breathless! She was 
just 200 feet shy of being as long as the Empire State Building is tall. 
>From where she sat in the water to the very top of her first smokestack, 
she was taller than Niagara Falls! Twelve lifeboats in a row on one side 
of the ship, another twelve on the other side, enough to hold over 3,000 
people, calmed some of the fears I had harbored. 

Neil secured our luggage with a porter then reached for my hand and 
smiled, "Our you ready, love?"

"I suppose so." My palm was slightly moist in his hand.

Neil must have sensed my hesitation. Wrapping his strong arm around my 
waist, he willed me toward the ship, "Don't worry, Christy. They've 
learned alot about shipmaking since the sinking of the Titanic. See all 
those lifeboats up there?" I nodded, having already noticed. He firmly 
stated, "We'll have no need for any of them." I saw a twinkle of 
devilishness in his hazel eyes as a smile spread across his face. Giving 
me a quick wink, he whispered, "Besides, she was made in Scotland!" 

I had to smile at the irony; going to Scotland... with a Scotsman... on 
a Scottish ship! "Well if this isn't fate, I don't know what is!" I 
chuckled.

"There ya go!" Neil proclaimed wide-eyed as if I had just made a 
dazzling new discovery.

As we made our way up the walkway, all my fears had subsided. Neil and I 
stood near the rail on the stern of the ship and waved to the crowds 
below as the ships horn signaled her departure. Ribbons of colorful 
string and thousand of pieces of glistening confetti swept through the 
salty sea breeze. Heady excitement filled the air. A slight rock of the 
ship as it started out towards the end of the harbor swept me into 
Neil's arms. Looking up into his eyes, I saw they were filled with a 
familiar emotion. He pressed me against him and kissed me passionately, 
obviously unconcerned about this public display of affection. Moments 
later, as he slowly parted his lips from mine, I felt dizzy and 
breathless, surprised at this unexpected shower of love.

"Wow!" I proclaimed, trying to catch my breath, "What was that all 
about?"

"I love you, Christy MacNeill. I've loved you since I first set eyes on 
you that snowy January afternoon twenty-five years ago and I'll love you 
until my last dying breath." He reached into his pocket and pulled from 
it a small, blue velvet box, "I wanted to give this to you on our 
anniversary, but with the excitement of the night, I forgot all about 
it. I decided to save it for this appropriate occasion, which I consider 
our first official honeymoon." Neil then opened the box to reveal a a 
gold band laced with five perfectly cut diamonds, "One for every five 
years that I've loved you." He stated as he slipped the ring on my 
finger.

"Oh, Neil, it's gorgeous. I love it!" Tears glistened my eyes. For 
twenty-three years, Neil teased me about how emotionally sentimental I 
could be. But I had no control over this. After all, I was married to 
the world's most loving, giving, romantic man! I then flung my arms 
around his neck and kissed him just as passionately. Softly, so as not 
to be overheard by the other passengers, I whispered lustily in his ear, 
"If this is officially our honeymoon, I think it's time to get it 
started."

In no time at all, we were celebrating our honeymoon in our stateroom.

**********************************************************************
Summary: Neil and Christy make friends aboard the ship.

Part IV

Two hours later, Neil and I emerged from our stateroom, ready to explore 
this massive ship. Just the hallway itself, outside our door, gave a 
good indication to the enormity of the Queen Mary. Looking in either 
direction, the hall expanded to bow and stern. At both ends, carpeted 
staircases lead to any of the twelve decks, which included the Sun Deck, 
Promenade Deck, and Observation Deck. Exploring the ship's interior, we 
discovered teak flooring, finely crafted furniture upholstered in muted 
blues and subtle mahoganies, rich paisley carpet, and a variety of 
artwork, many styles in which the art deco world had just discovered; 
plaster frieze in ivory tones and large mural carvings on the Promenade 
Deck, a motif in anodysed aluminum on the Main Deck, illuminated glass 
panels near the swimming pool on the F Deck, and sculpted ironwork 
double doors leading into the first class dining room. It was obvious no 
amount of money was spared on the creation of this ship. Returning to 
our room to shower just before dinner, we discovered the shower had four 
water handles, two for hot and cold fresh water, and two for hot and 
cold salt water! It made me wonder if anyone ever showered in the salt 
water and why on earth they would!

Dinner was an elegant experience. We dressed appropriately, which meant 
black tie for the first evening's dinner, each thereafter was less 
formal although still what Neil and I would consider dressed up. We were 
seated at a round table for eight, and promptly introduced to our dinner 
companions. The first couple, Thomas and Judith Connery, were young, in 
their early twenties, and seemed so out of their element, much like Neil 
and I. They were returning to Edinburgh from New York, where Thomas's 
wealthy great-uncle had passed away. The Connery's, traveling with their 
seven year old son, Thomas Sean (who preferred to be called Sean as not 
to confuse him with his father), spent a chunk of their inheritance on 
their first class passage back to Scotland. Judith, a somewhat shy 
brunette, considered it a once in a lifetime opportunity for the blue 
collar family. I was immediately smitten by Sean, who reminded me of the 
highlander children in Cutter Gap, with his 'ayes' and 'yans'. Just like 
Neil and Thomas, Sean tugged at his tie all night, which I found 
endearing. This child belonged in overalls and a straw hat, sitting by 
the creek bank with a fishing pole in his hand. He would have felt at 
home in Cutter Gap.

I found our other three dinner companions not as interesting as the 
Connery family. Thirty-five year old Donald Caskie, a Scot who was 
traveling alone, preferred to turn the conversation toward European 
politics, and spoke endlessly about the Nazi's in Germany and the 
looming threat of another World War. I had read a blub in the paper not 
long ago about a small political faction stirring up trouble in Germany, 
but with my eldest son possibly joining the military in less than a 
year, I preferred not to entertain the idea of the possibility of 
another war. Seated next to Mr. Caskie was a wealthy, elderly American 
couple, Roger and Edith Aitken, who were relatives of the first Baron of 
Beaverbrook, William Maxwell Aitken. They seemed bored with the dinner 
chit-chat and spoke mostly among themselves. Subsequently, they chose 
not to join us for the remaining dinners aboard the ship.

Neil and I quickly formed a shipboard friendship with the Connery 
family, who reminded me of Neil and I twenty years ago. We spent the 
remainder of the four day journey with the Connery's, lounging poolside, 
soaking up summer rays on the Sun Deck, dancing the evenings away to 
songs like "I've Got You Under My Skin" and "September in the Rain", and 
even watching a movie picture show, "The Great Ziegfeld", in the Cinema 
Room. I scarcely had a chance to take in the entire ship when too 
suddenly, June 8th arrived and the Queen Mary was docking in 
Southampton, England. Neil and I exchanged address's with the Connery's 
as we promised to keep in touch. I would especially miss Sean, who 
reminded me of a Scottish equivalent of a young Sam Houston Holcombe. To 
my surprise, Sean presented me with a gift before we departed the ship;  
a crayon drawing of him and I sharing an ice cream in the Observation 
Lounge. As the ship's horn sounded final departure, Sean quickly 
scribbled his name in the lower right hand corner of the drawing, gave 
me a tight embrace and one last wave goodbye as he ran towards his 
parents. To this day, in a dusty old chest in the corner of the attic, 
lies the mementos of our trip to Scotland; among them, Sean's 
"autographed" crayon drawing.

**********************************************************************
Summary: Neil and Christy take the train through England to Scotland.

Part V

Neil and I spent the evening in the bustling port town of Southampton. 
The following morning, we boarded a train headed for Scotland. Our first 
stop was London, where we had a one hour layover, giving Neil and I time 
to see a few of the more popular tourists attractions, such as Big Ben, 
Westminster Abbey, and Buckingham Palace. The city was still abuzz over 
the abdication of King Edward VIII in favor of marriage to an American 
divorcee, and the subsequent recent coronation of Edward's younger 
brother, Albert, who was now known as King George VI. Having nothing 
like the royal family in America, I was in awe of the majesty and 
regality of the monarchy, but Neil, being a Scotsman not only in 
bloodlines but in heart, thought much less of the monarchy, since they 
still held sovereign reign over his beloved Scotland.

We continued our journey on to the industrial towns of Northampton, 
Birmingham and Manchester, then through the Northern English countryside 
before finally crossing the border into Scotland, sometime close to dawn 
on June 10th. I drew back the curtains of our compartment and smiled at 
the familiarity of the surrounding countryside. Lush green hills rolled 
one after another, dotted by tiny wood houses with chimneys billowing 
puffs of light grey smoke into the crisp morning air. Scattered clusters 
of white sheep polka-dotted the vivid green meadows. Herds of ebony and 
chestnut ponies frolicked under the clear blue skies as their mothers 
gathered creekside to drink in the fresh cool water trickling off the 
hills.  In the distance, shrouded in blue mist, I spied the majestic 
Grampian Mountains, and realized at this moment the grasp the Smoky 
Mountains held on those Highlanders who settled generations ago in rural 
Tennessee.

I turned to Neil, who was still sleeping, and snuggled up against him. 
Pressed against his back, I drank in the slightest lingering of the 
prior night's cologne, the same cologne he had worn for the past twenty 
years, just because it was my favorite. How grateful I was to God to 
have granted Neil his secret wish to return to the land of his 
ancestors. At the age of fifty-eight, Neil was beginning to think he 
would go to his grave without ever making this journey. But he knew it 
was in God's hands. I felt as if this was God's reward to Neil for all 
the sacrifices he had made in his lifetime; his wife, his newborn son, 
and a nationally recognized esteemed career in medicine. Neil awakened 
at my touch, and we automatically turned to cuddle in our favorite 
spoonlike position. Both now facing the window of our compartment, I 
pulled open one side of the curtain. The morning sun beamed through the 
glass as Neil sat up, struck, just as I was, by the familiarity of the 
landscape. I sat up and studied this look of peace encompassing my 
husband's rugged face. His hazel eyes were entranced by the countryside, 
until, moist with tears of fulfillment, they turned to me. I could 
scarcely contain my tears, which were merely the physical expression of 
a heart overflowing with joy. As I placed my hands softly on his cheeks 
and kissed him lightly, I whispered, "You're home."

**********************************************************************
Summary: Christy and Neil arrive at Kisimul Castle.

Part VI

In Glasgow, Neil and I departed our comfortable, modern train for one 
which reminded me of Old Buncombe. This train took us through the 
Grampian Mountains, to Roshven, on the western coast of Scotland. We 
then took a ferry from Roshven to the small town of CastleBay, on the 
Island of Barra. As we neared CastleBay, it was easy to see how the town 
got it's name. Besides the small fishing boats lining the coast, the 
first sight one held from sea was Kisimul Castle, appropriately 
nicknamed "the castle in the sea" as it was set on a rocky islet 
completely surrounded by water in the harbor of CastleBay.  The dark, 
stone castle seemed a foreboding fortress, strong enough to withstand 
attacks from enemies of the MacNeill Clan. Later, I would learn that the 
MacNeill's were often the instigators of these attacks, raiding any and 
all ships within miles of CastleBay, then fleeing to within the 
stronghold of Kisimul Castle. They were pirates! 

Departing the ferry, Neil and I were met at the dock by a young man of 
barely seventeen, Gregory, who loaded our trunks onto a fishing boat and 
escorted us across the harbor to Kisimul Castle. It seemed Gregory had 
been hired for the week to be the official MacNeill chauffer, shuttling 
guests of the Clan Chief between the port and castle. He was excited 
with this temporary assignment for he had a young wife, Claire, who was 
pregnant with their first child. For the most part, the sea was their 
only means of income, as it was for most of the families in CastleBay.

The Clan colors of black and gold flew high above the castle, signifying 
the presence of the Clan Chief. A trumpeter, perched high on the rooftop 
near the flag, sounded our arrival. We were met at the door by a tall, 
lanky man with wavy blonde hair as unruly as Neil's. He was a happy, 
animated character who shook our hands vigorously and introduced himself 
as Robert Lister. Stepping inside the dimly lit castle, which had no 
electricity, we were then introduced to Robert's wife, Patricia, who, 
like Robert, was also in her mid-thirties. The tall, shapely brunette 
spoke softly and seemed somewhat shy, but I could sense a kindness and 
gentleness in her soft green eyes, which lit up at the sight of her 
three year old son, Ian, giggling happily as he rammed into her skirt 
and wrapped his arms around his mother's legs.

The Lister's accompanied Neil and I to our room. Along the way, through 
a maze of candlelit corridor after corridor, Robert pointed out 
paintings, portraits and statues to guide us through the castle, which 
would be helpful when we were on our own. Ascending a dark, steep, stone 
staircase, we finally reached our large room, which was furnished with a 
four-poster double bed, twin nightstands with matching oil lamps, a 
chest of drawers, a dressing table, and a small settee placed in front 
of a large fireplace. Thick red draperies covered the window, other than 
that, the four walls were bare of any decorations.

As Neil stacked our trunks in a corner of the room, I plopped across the 
soft bed, happy knowing I was settled into one place for an entire week. 
No more ships, no more trains. It was time to relax.

The next thing I knew, Neil was covering me with a small handmade throw 
which had been draped across the back of the settee. Realizing I had 
dozed off, my eyes opened widely.

"Sssh, "Neil whispered as he placed a kiss across my forehead, "I know 
your tired, love. Why don't you rest for a bit while I go find our 
host."

I smiled. My body hadn't quite adjusted to the time change, so it was 
inviting proposition, "Thirty minutes?"

"Thirty minutes." Neil replied, knowing I wouldn't want to sleep longer 
than this and possibly miss out any excitement.

I closed my eyes but found it hard to get back to sleep. There was so 
much of the castle yet to discover, and taking a nap almost felt like a 
waste of precious time. A ray of noontime sun shone through a split in 
the draperies and beamed across the bed, inviting me to the window. 
Throwing back the curtains, the glassless window revealed a magnificent 
view of the town of CastleBay. A large Roman Catholic church, Our Lady 
of The Sea, which seemed to stand guard over the town, was surrounded by 
small whitewash cottages. I watched for a moment as these Highlanders 
went about their daily lives; children played, women hung clothes to 
dry, and men readied their boats and fishing nets for another journey 
out to sea. I tried to imagine that this must have been what day-to-day 
life was like for Neil's great-grandparents, before they came to America 
and finally settled into Cutter Gap, Tennessee.

Lost in the past, I traced my hand lightly over the cool, damp walls as 
I slowly walked the room and imagined the generations of people who 
slept in this very room. To my surprise, the grainy, rough wall next to 
the fireplace suddenly felt rocky but smooth. I smiled with excitement 
when I realized I had found some sort of secret panel. It took me a few 
minutes but I finally found another hidden panel, the size of a dollar 
bill, which opened to reveal an old brass knob. Turning the knob, I 
watched as the floor to ceiling secret panel swung open. Curiosity 
getting the best of me, I quickly lit the oil lamp and stepped inside 
the passageway, ready for my own little adventure.
**********************************************************************
Summary: Christy finds a document.


Part VII

I held the oil lamp out at arms length and into a thick layer of spider 
webs. Obviously it had been years, if not decades, since anyone had 
traversed this narrow passageway. Hesitantly, I followed the steep, 
spiralling staircase downward. After the forty-fifth step, I began to 
worry, wondering if the stairway led anywhere or if I would find it was 
a dead-end, never finished by those who built the castle. But I 
continued on, urged by my rising sense of curiosity. Minutes later, I 
came to the end of the staircase and discovered a small, metal door, so 
small I knew I'd have to bend in half if I was to go inside. I pulled on 
the handle, but it was stuck. Determined, I continued to pull on the 
handle, with each try loosening it's seal. Finally, it opened! Now on my 
knees, I placed the lamp inside then crawled in. Instinctively, I stood 
and dusted myself off, then reached for the lamp. The soft glow 
illuminated the small room and its contents; a twin-size bed, desk, and 
chair. I was immediately drawn to the desk. Neatly set atop the desk 
were a writing tablet, dry inkwell and quill pen. I noticed inkspots on 
the tablet and lifted it to the lamp, hoping I could possibly connect 
the dots somehow and discover what had been written on it. But there was 
no need. The author had placed his letter neatly under the tablet, not 
to be discovered unless the tablet had been moved!

My heart beat heavily now as I gently lifted the delicate paper to the 
lamp. The manuscript was neat, with large looping letters beginning 
every paragraph. Slowly, I began to read:

23 April 1838

It is with a heavy heart that I write this for those who in the 
generations to come might discover its whereabouts, and in doing so, 
also discover the truths behind the destruction of our Clan MacNeill and 
the horrors inflicted upon our homeland, the once great independent 
Scotland.

I write this not in my native Gaelic tongue, for it is a dwindling 
language and I fear may vanish with all things truly Highland Scottish, 
and therefore outlawed.

Mine eyes have seen great devastation, death, poverty, and despair. I 
can no longer watch as fellow Clan Chiefs, devoid of pride and filled 
with greed, sell property out from under their people, only to have 
their homes burned and levelled, even whilst some remain within. Try as 
I might, I have remained true to my people, as they to I, but the 
Duchess of Sutherland's hunger runs deep. No longer is the Northern 
lands of Hebrides enough to fill her or the Cheviots which graze upon 
its dwindling pastures. The Clearances are driving South, nearing Barra. 
As one of the few remaining Clan Chiefs faithful to his people, not the 
monies wagged at me by the Duchess to keep my people on the Isle to work 
as her cotters, (for we are a proud lot and will work for none other 
than those with the name MacNeill or Stewart), it is my duty to spare 
them the indignity of becoming a lowly slave or retreating to Inverness, 
where typhoid is rampant, blame placed on the indigent Highlanders for 
this scourge.

Therefore, after much council with respected MacNeill clansmen, I must 
take the Duchess' offer, sell my beloved home of Kisimul Castle, along 
with it, my land, our land, Barra. Such monies will afford our journey 
to America, where I pray we escape the ravages of the famine we have 
suffered the two years past, remain bound by the blood we share, and 
find within it's shores a splendor near enough to the beauty God created 
within Scotland.

Yet I hold this vow, that someday a MacNeill shall return to Barra, 
discover the headstone of the Duchess Elizabeth Sutherland, and stand 
over her grave, declaring the words of our forefathers, "My foot is on 
the head of my enemy!" Afterwhich, he shall shore up the walls of 
Kisimul Castle and find within the treasure it holds.

Roderick the General
Forty-First Chief of the Clan MacNeill

I sat motionless, momentarily stung by the weight of the words before 
me. This was a written history of the turmoil of the Hebrides and the 
upheaval of the Clan MacNeill, written by the hand of the last MacNeill 
to reside in this castle. What a find! And what of the treasure? Had it 
been found? Did anyone know of it's existence? Excited by my discovery, 
I sprung from the chair, knocking the lamp to the floor, where it 
shattered and spread flames within a two foot radius. Quickly, I grabbed 
the bedspread, dropped to my knees, and began to smother the flames. The 
small fire cast a light under the desk, where my eyes caught sight of 
yet another small doorway! Perhaps the treasure was inside. Perhaps it 
was another passageway. Even without the aid of a lamp, I was determined 
to find out.

**********************************************************************
Summary: Christy finds the treasure.

Part VIII

After dousing the fire, and now in complete darkness, I tried to push 
the heavy desk out of the way, but it was solid and immovable. I then 
got on all fours under the desk, and immediately cut my hand on a piece 
of the broken lamp. Even in the dark, I could tell it was a deep cut and 
felt the warm blood trickle down my fingers. I was able to tear the 
entire length of the hem of my dress and wrap it around my hand as a 
makeshift bandage. Nothing was going to deter me from discovering what 
was behind that door.

To my surprise, the door opened quite easily. I crawled inside and 
stumbled to my feet. Fear of the darkness swept through me but I took a 
deep breath, bound not to let my fears keep me from going forth. I was 
able to brace myself by placing both hands on either walls to guide my 
direction. Who knew where this passageway led or where and when it might 
turn. Occasionally, I had to stop to clear the cobwebs from my face.

The walls became damper and cooler as the floor beneath me began to 
gently slope. I knew it had been but a few minutes since I'd been inside 
but the darkness made it seem like an hour. Shortly, the walls to my 
sides ended. I groped about and realized I was at an intersection, with 
only the choices to go left or right. I choose right, but within fifteen 
feet, realized I made a wrong decision as it was a dead end. I turned 
and headed in the other direction. With the walls only at arms length 
and the darkness swallowing me, I began to feel closed in, but there was 
no turning back, and at this point, I was unsure if I could find my way 
back! Panic was beginning to overtake me as I hurried along. My throat 
was feeling tight, most likely a combination of fear and breathing 
musty, damp air.  I couldn't get enough air! With turn after maze-like 
turn twisting me within the castle's walls, my palms began sweating and 
my heart raced, fearing I would be lost inside the belly of this castle 
forever. 

Another turn, another direction. I stopped for a moment and listened. It 
was the first time throughout the corridors that I could faintly hear 
anything. It was a familiar, rhythmic whooshing sound. All the clues 
made sense, from the sloping floor to the damp, cool walls to the 
whooshing noise...I was at the bottom of the castle, near sea level. 

I continued to feel along the walls until I realized I had come to an 
end, wall after wall connected, except for the opening I walked through. 
I had found another hidden room, this one smaller than the last. 
Suddenly, my hip bumped into something. I felt around this object and 
could tell it was some sort of glass case, narrow but over six feet 
long, and placed upon some sort of stand. This might be the treasure! 
Maybe I had actually found it! But my heart sunk when I realized I'd 
have to find my way back to the first hidden room. I wasn't sure I had 
the strength to overcome and face my fears again, but I knew I had no 
choice. 

As I groped my way towards the only opening of this room, I felt 
something, with small feet and a long tail, scamper, not too quickly, 
across my shoe. Instantly, I let out a short, loud shriek and jumped 
back against the nearest wall, hoping the critter would be just as 
scared of me as I was of it, and then run in the opposite direction! As 
my body bounced against the wall, it swung open, just as the panel in my 
bedroom had, and I fell out of the hidden room and onto the floor of the 
inner docking area (where raiding ships could slip inside the stronghold 
of the castle to escape the retaliation of other ships). Having fallen flat 
on my back, I shielded my eyes from the glare of the sun, only to find 
Neil and Robert staring down at me in disbelief!

**********************************************************************
Summary: The treasure is uncovered.

Part IX

Neil and Robert simultaneously reached down to help me to my feet. I was 
completely shocked and caught off guard by the panel opening, but 
grateful to be out of my dark adventure. As Neil  pulled cobwebs from my 
hair, he muttered on about my torn dress and bloodied, bandaged hand. 
Through my excitement, I could only understand half of what he was 
saying. All I could think about was the treasure. In one breath, I told 
the entire story; the secret passageways, the hidden rooms, the letter, 
the broken lamp, and the treasure. Neil and Robert listened intently to 
my rapid fire speech, wide-eyed at every detail. After I finished, my 
nerves were on edge. Neil smiled at my excitement, grabbed an oil lamp 
and calmly stated, "Well, let's go see what you've found."

Carrying the lamp, Neil entered first, followed by Robert, then me. We 
three stood quiet for a moment, shocked at the treasure before our eyes. 
I had been correct when I thought I had bumped into a long glass case. 
But the true treasure was what the case held; a mighty sword, 
approximately five and a half feet in length, with a brass knob at the 
end of the leather wrapped handle, and a straight brass crossbar. On the 
case was a brass plate with this description:

Herein lies the sword of Sir William Wallace of Elerslie, 1272-1305, a 
Highlander and true Scottish hero.

Inside the glass case, near the handle of the sword, another brass 
plate, the size of a piece of writing paper,  with this inscription:

The last words of Sir William Wallace:
"I can not be a traitor, for I owe him no allegiance. He is not my 
Sovereign; he never received my homage; and whilst life is in this 
persecuted body, he never shall receive it. To the other points whereof 
I am accused, I freely confess them all. As Governor of my country I 
have been an enemy to its enemies; I have slain the English; I have 
mortally opposed the English King; I have stormed and taken the towns 
and castles which he unjustly claimed as his own. If  I or my soldiers 
have plundered or done injury to the houses or ministers of religion, I 
repent me of my sin; but it is not of Edward of England I shall ask 
pardon."

After reading the inscriptions, Robert turned pale. Neil helped him 
through the open paneling, into the fresh air, where we three found a 
spot to sit among the dock. Finally catching his breath and color 
returning to his face, Robert recounted the folklore of the 
disappearance of William Wallace's sword.

Upon his death, the sword of William Wallace remained encased at 
Dunbarton Castle for over four centuries. It became a Scottish symbol 
against treachery and injustice. But, in 1795, King George III of 
England, who by all accounts was insane, demanded it be removed from 
Dunbarton Castle and Scotland altogether.  King George III planned to 
melt the sword down to nothing, in an attempt to show the Scottish that 
they indeed were under his rule, and that they were to make no attempts 
at independence. (Nineteen years prior, England had lost it's American 
colonies to independence). Upon hearing rumors of this plan, rogue 
Highlanders stormed Dunbarton Castle and stole the sword. When King 
George III learned of this, he had a replica secretly forged and 
publicly placed in Buckingham Palace, to be used as leverage against the 
Scots if ever there were rumors of an insurgence.

By 1797, all of Scotland was aware of the replica and the missing 
original. Throughout generations, rumors persisted that the sword had 
eventually fallen into the hands of the MacNeill Clan, who were 
considered fiercely loyal to Scotland. But no one, especially not a 
MacNeill, ever came forth with evidence to back up this claim. The myth, 
legend, folklore lived on.....until now.

**********************************************************************
Summary: A Ball, a decision, and bad news.

Part X

Throughout the rest of the day, MacNeill descendants arrived 
sporadically. Robert remained busy settling them in while trying to keep 
his mind off the sword and the letter, which we retrieved not long after 
finding the sword. Neil and I agreed to keep the discovery of the sword 
to ourselves. Patricia, who I later learned was a Scottish history buff, 
looked as if she too would faint after hearing the news of the 
discovery. The decision on how to appropriately handle the discovery 
weighed heavily on the Listers. How would they tell all of Scotland that 
the missing sword of their beloved countryman lied within the walls of 
Kisimul Castle for over a century?

Robert and Patricia carried on the next day's festivities and 
celebrations as planned. A total of 67 MacNeill descendants, accompanied 
by their spouses, descended on Kisimul Castle this day, the height of 
the week-long events. That evening, during the Grand Ball, Robert made 
his announcement:

"Ladies and Gentlemen, MacNeill ancestors, pardon me for interrupting 
this night's festivities but I have something of great importance to 
share. In this hand I hold a great document, found only just yesterday 
by Mrs. Neil MacNeill in the secretive hollows of this castle." The room 
was silent as Robert slowly yet confidently read the letter. As he 
finished, the room was immediately filled with gasps and excited 
chatter. Robert's voice rose above them, "Please...allow me to 
continue," All eyes focused on Robert as he went on, "Thanks to the 
tenacity of Christy MacNeill," Robert then nodded and smiled in my 
direction, causing me to blush at the acknowledgement, "The treasure 
spoken of in this document has been discovered and recovered." From a 
side entrance, Gregory (the young boatsman) and the trumpeter (who I 
learned was one of Robert's good friends from the States), wheeled in 
the glass case. Again, excitement and curiosity rang out. Robert 
continued, "Ladies and Gentlemen, I present to you the sword of Sir 
William Wallace."

There was no containing the jubilation which encompassed the room. The 
joyous crowd rushed forward to view the sword and shake Robert's hand. 
The following morning, June 12th, in a meeting attended by only the 
direct MacNeill Clan Chief descendants, it was voted upon to return the 
sword to Dunbarton Castle on the condition that King George VI write a 
decree that the sword shall remain in Scotland forever. Just as in 
Cutter Gap, Tennessee, word spread quickly about the discovery of the 
sword. By late evening, throngs of people, including reporters, 
descended upon the tiny town of CastleBay. Surely, it was the greatest 
historical event in the town's history.

That same evening, as Neil and I stood on the highest peak of the 
castle, enjoying the chilly, salty sea breeze, the star filled night, 
and the tranquility we so desperately needed after the day's chaotic 
happenings, our peace was interrupted by Gregory, who had wound his way 
to the top of the castle just to find us. I immediately thought it was 
odd that he was here so late, and worry swept over me. I'll never forget 
the look on this poor boy's face as he handed Neil the small slip of 
yellow paper, which I recognized as telegraph paper.  Without saying a 
word, Gregory turned and walked away.

Neil casually unfolded the telegram and began to read. I never noticed 
any change in his expression until he finished, and his sorrowful eyes 
locked on mine. Instantly, my heart sank, "What is it, Neil?" I 
implored.

In a low, soft voice Neil often used when giving patients and their 
family bad news, he replied as he handed me the telegram, "It's from 
Anna."

As I began to read, Neil cradled me in the comfort of his strong arms. 
The telegram read:

Momma and Daddy-STOP-
It's Miss Alice-STOP-
A massive heart attack-STOP-
Her last days-STOP-
Return immediately-STOP-
Yours truly, Anna-STOP-

My knees buckled out from under me. As it had been since before our 
marriage, Neil's strength supported me. I wanted to speak but the lump 
in my throat  allowed out only a quick, pitiful catch. Neil embraced me 
tightly and whispered, "Don't worry, love. I'll get you home."

**********************************************************************
Summary: Neil and Christy find a quick way home. Christy gets a 
surprise.

Part XI

I spent the better part of the night packing. As exhausted as I was, I 
couldn't sleep. I could only think of the thousands of miles separating 
me from Miss Alice. I would never be able to forgive myself if I 
couldn't get home in time to be there with her, for her. It had taken us 
eight days to reach CastleBay. I knew I didn't have eight days. I could 
only pray for a miracle. I dropped to my knees and begged God to grant 
two wishes; that He allow Miss Alice to wait for me to get home and that 
Neil and I have a speedy return.

Even though it was the middle of the night, Neil, Robert and many of 
Kisimul Castle's guests brainstormed ways to get us home more quickly. 
Just before dawn, an intricate plan was set.  Gregory would take us in 
his fishing boat, which was faster than a ferry, from CastleBay to 
Rushven. A network of automobile owners would drive us from Rushven, 
Scotland all the way to London, England, taking less time than if we 
went by train; no stops and we could travel as quickly as the drivers 
were comfortable driving. Later, I learned that Robert telegraphed a 
friend of his who owned an automobile, who in turned telephoned another 
friend. This continued until we were found transportation all the way to 
London! I was overwhelmed by the outpouring of support from complete 
strangers. Something in my plight must have struck a chord somewhere 
deep within them all. 

We would arrive in London at approximately 6:00 p.m. From there we were 
to meet Dick Merrill, an American who had flown from New York City to 
London at least seven times delivering mail and other goods. The thought 
of riding in an airplane scared the daylights out of me. But, the flight 
would take less than 15 hours, which meant we would be arriving in New 
York City around 10:00 a.m. Neil would then meet a physician friend who 
agreed to loan us his automobile. If Neil could drive the entire 
distance between New York City and Cutter Gap, which I had no doubt (as 
long as he slept during our flight), we would arrive in Cutter Gap at 
approximately 1:00 a.m. I possibly could be by Miss Alice's side by the 
wee morning hours tomorrow! It was too hard for me to comprehend 
traveling from one continent to the next in such a short time!

Thanks to the Grace of God, all went as planned. Before we got on the 
plane, I was trembling violently, until I reminded myself to leave it in 
God's hands. Instantly, I was overcome with peace and strength. As 
cramped as we were in two tiny seats squished between boxes of goods, 
Neil and I were able to fall asleep on the plane, and due in part to 
sheer exhaustion, slept for ten hours.

Arriving in New York, we took a taxi to the home of Dr. Bryan Sullivan, 
who had attended medical school with Neil. He and his wife, Virginia, 
understood our urgency to get home, so they meet us at the doorway of 
their elegant home, and ushered us to their motor car. I was so worried 
about how we would return the motorcar, once we arrived in Cutter Gap, 
but to my surprise, they had four motorcars in their garage, and assured 
us they were in no hurry to have it returned. Virginia pointed out the 
baskets of breakfast, lunch and dinner she placed in the back seat, 
along with a few books to entertain us on our journey. She then gave me 
a sympathetic hug and wished us a speedy, safe trip. As we drove away, I 
looked back and saw Bryan and Virginia standing at the end of their 
driveway, sharing a long embrace. That's when Neil told me Virginia had 
lost her mother just seven months ago. I then understood the pain I had 
seen in her eyes.

The journey through the mountains of Tennessee, on winding, unpaved, 
often too narrow roads, had been treacherous. But Neil remained strong 
and calm, and never once showed any sense of fear, I believe simply for 
my sake. I was more nervous driving in a motorcar through the mountains 
than I was riding in the airplane over the Atlantic Ocean!

Neil and I finally arrived in Cutter Gap at 2:15 a.m. June 15th. Neil 
drove the car all the way up to the front of the Mission, illuminating 
the porch with the headlights. Gathered there, I saw John and Bessie 
Spencer, Jeb Spencer and his daughter Clara, Rob and Ruby Mae Allen (who 
traveled from Knoxville upon hearing the news), Bob and Mary Allen, 
Creed Allen and his wife, Nancy, and our sons, Neal and Charlie, with 
Peggy Ann Robertson; everyone who held Miss Alice dear to their hearts. 
Seeing this crowd of people at such a late hour of the night worried me.

Before Neil was even out of the car, I rushed up the Mission steps and 
was immediately embraced by my two sons. "How is she?" I asked.

I heard the front door creak open behind me. A familiar baritone voice 
instantly sent a flood of memories through me, "She's waiting for you, 
Christy."

I spun around, face-to-face with.......David!

**********************************************************************
Summary: Oh, you already know! :-)

Part XII

I was shocked to see David standing before me. Fifteen years had passed 
since he left Cutter Gap, and our correspondence had become few and far 
between. It was so sad that the imminent death of his mentor was the 
only thing that could get him back to Cutter Gap. But I was gratefulfor 
his coming. His coal black hair was now a salt and pepper mixture, and 
the lines around his mouth and eyes could no longer be called "laugh 
lines", yet looking into his warm, chocolate eyes and seeing the spark 
of emotion they still held for me, I immediately found myself drifting 
back to the summer of 1913, at the height of our courtship. Standing 
before David, I felt like a lost child of nineteen again. Inexplicably, 
I leaped into his embrace, wrapping my arms tightly around his neck. I 
didn't want to face the here and now. I suppose I was searching for the 
comfort of the past. David understood this. He gently stroke my hair and 
whispered, "It's all right, Christy. I understand. But you have to face 
this. We all do."

I slowly pulled myself from him and tried to reign in my emotions as he 
offered me his handkerchief. Wiping my tears, I apologized to him but he 
would have none of it, "You have no reason to apologize. This is a 
difficult time for all of us, and I can only imagine how much more so 
for you."

Just then, Neil came up from behind me. Knowing Neil, he had taken his 
time greeting the others so that David and I could have a word alone. 
After twenty-three years of marriage, Neil no longer felt threatened by 
anyone, and knew my heart would always belong to him. "David," Neil 
shook his hand, "It's been a long time. I wish it could have been under 
better circumstances." David nodded his head in agreement. Neil then 
took my hand and turned to me, speaking softly, "I don't mean to rush 
you, love, but we should go inside."

David lead us into the kitchen, where Anna, Dr. Woodall, Clarence and 
Ida Sweetwater, and David's wife, Ashley, were keeping vigil around the 
dining table. Anna immediately jumped to embrace Neil and I, and quickly 
informed us that Miss Alice was resting comfortably but her passing 
could come at any time. The others had all ready shared their final 
words with her. Then Anna added, "Momma, I really think she's waiting 
for you." Again, a lump caught in my throat, tears glistened in my eyes, 
but I had promised myself to be strong. It was the least I could do for 
a woman who, for twenty-five years, had been my source of strength 
through her wisdom and spiritual guidance. Unable to respond, I turned 
to the dark, looming stairs, and slowly made my way up, followed by 
Neil.

Quietly, we entered Miss Alice's room. It startled us both to see her 
slightly propped up in bed, awake, with the Bible opened in her hands 
and her lace shawl loosely covering her hair. Until this moment, I had 
never noticed how time and a hard life had taken their toll on her.  She 
looked so tiny, frail and weak lying there, so unlike the hearty, 
lively, zealous woman I met that cold January day in 1912. A soft smile 
slowly spread across her ashen face as she noticed us in her doorway. 
She laid her head back on her pillows and, still smiling, closed her 
eyes as if our arrival now permitted her a chance to relax. She patted 
her bed, beckoning us to join her. I quickly fell to my knees by her 
bedside, taking her aged hand in mine and resting it against my moist 
cheek. She reached for Neil with her other hand. Still standing, he took 
her hand in his, and with a voice cracking with emotion, tried to speak 
strongly, "Alice, you never cease to surprise me. It doesn't say much 
for my skills as a doctor that I didn't see this coming." 

Miss Alice chuckled at this, "I've always been one to try to keep thee 
in thy place, haven't I?"

Neil smiled but then turned solemn, "Alice, I hope you know how much 
you've meant...."

"I know, I know," Miss Alice interrupted, "Time is short. We have no 
time for words that need not be said because they have been 
felt.....here," she pointed to his heart, "And here," she then pointed 
to her heart.

Tears began to stream down Neil's cheeks. He bent over her, kissed her 
on her forehead and whispered through a choke, "I love you."

Miss Alice, who now was also crying softly, whispered back, "I love 
you.......son."

Neil turned his back to us, took his handkerchief from his pocket, wiped 
his eyes, and let out a deep, cleansing sigh. Although I know he wanted 
to stay, he knew Miss Alice and I needed our time alone. Besides that, I 
think his overwhelming emotions forced him to leave. Watching Miss Alice 
die was more than he could bare.

"I'm so proud to have been able to call that man my 
son-in-law....twice," Miss Alice winked and smiled lovingly at me, "And 
I'm so glad thou art here." She squeezed my hand between hers.

"Oh Miss Alice. I was so worried I wouldn't make it back.....in time." 
My voice choked on those last words.

Miss Alice's tired eyes widened as she lifted her head from the pillow, 
"Did thee have any doubt God would answer our prayers, Christy 
MacNeill?" She didn't wait for an answer and replied, "I certainly 
didn't. God has always answered our prayers. Mark 11:24: Therefore, I 
say unto you, whatsoever things ye desire, believe that ye receive them, 
and ye shall have them." She rested her head again, "Yes, He is indeed a 
kind, loving God."

"Yes, He is." I began to weep. Miss Alice had no doubt the Lord would 
see me home before she passed, yet I worried, and continued to worry 
that I would not make it in time. Her faith knew no bounds. I couldn't 
imagine my life without her, without her guidance, without her wisdom, 
without her friendship. Suddenly, all strength within me dissolved. 
Laying my head on the bed, I sobbed loudly, "Oh, Miss Alice, how can I 
live without you? I can't do it. I can't do it! I need you."

Her thin hand gently stroked my hair, "Child, thee has every right to 
mourn thy loss, but don't mourn my death. My journey is over....and just 
beginning. In this tired old heart, there is a peace, a joy, and an 
excitement at the same time. I've lived my life serving the Lord, and 
now I will see Him, face to face. How long I have waited for this day! 
So don't cry for me, Christy." Her voice trailed off into an almost 
imperceptible whisper, "Don't cry, Christy......I'm going..... home."

Her hand, which had comfortingly stroked my hair, softly fell to the 
bed, as if placed there gently by the hand of God. Granting Miss Alice's 
last wish, I remained by her side and cried for my loss. But upon 
telling the others the news, I smiled, rejoicing in her journey home.

The End