The Doctor is In
Christy rode up the familiar path, letting Prince pick his way. Her mind spun with the overwhelming realisation. How had she not seen it before? It was as if she'd been searching for something, scouring every room, top to bottom, and looking right at it, but not seeing it.
David was so right, so appropriate, so in love... but none of that was enough. She had tried to believe it, tried to make it enough. After the fire at Dan Scott's, David had kissed her. She'd kissed him back, passionately. And there was something there. But she now realised it wasn't enough.
He was a good man, a good friend. He deserved the truth, no matter how difficult. He deserved her honesty. If she loved him the way that he wanted her to, if she truly loved him, she wouldn't be able to bare the thought of a life without him by her side. She wouldn't be able to keep putting him off. She would desperately seek him out, long for him, confide in him. Her heart would beat for him. But, for David, it was still.
She hesitated, her certainty faltering, as Neil's cabin came into sight. She hoped he was home, or else she would lose her nerve. And then she hoped he wasn't home. Perhaps it would be for the best. Perhaps she shouldn't have come. But she was compelled forward as if she had no choice in the matter. She looked for signs of life. The door was shut. She heard nothing except Neil's horse snuffling in his feed bag.
Christy slid from Prince's back, tied him to the railing. Without pause, she climbed the stairs and reached out to knock on the door. She felt herself begin to panic – what would she say? What would she do? What would he do, or say? Should she flee and say nothing at all, never give him the chance to do something she was unprepared for.
She rapped her knuckles against the rough wooden door and called out, "Neil?" Her voice was quieter than she intended. She listened. No reply came. She knocked again, louder, not trusting her voice, refusing to let her mind answer any of those questions, or consider for a moment how rash and foolish she might be behaving. She refused to think about it, to admit it even to herself. She blocked all thought and focussed on listening.
"Just a minute," his familiar voice called out.
She couldn't bare to wait, couldn't risk losing her nerve, and losing the battle within her mind (and heart?), so she forged ahead, "It's just me," she opened the door and stepped up, onto the step, but still on the threshold, her eyes adjusting to the light.
"Oh, Christy. Is everything alright?" He stepped out of his laboratory, drying his hands on his trousers.
"Everything is fine. I mean, no one is hurt or anything."
"I'm glad to hear it." He waited for her question, or explanation, a reason for this unexpected visit.
"I just wanted to talk to you about something."
He nodded, "Of course." He meant she was welcome, she needed no more excuse than that, he was willing to hear anything she had to say. It was the invitation of a friend, the promise of confidence and equality and honesty.
She wanted to tell him everything, to stride across his cabin and... and what?
He turned to tend the fire, giving her all the time she needed. Free from his scrutiny she finally entered the room. She stood behind a chair, holding onto the back of it, feeling that the barrier between them, this sturdy, hand-made, rustic piece of furniture, would somehow reduce the risk that either of them might do something foolish.
He stood and turned to face her, in one fluid movement. His look of concern faded into a smile, reassuring and inviting.
Without thinking about it, she stepped around the chair. "We're friends right?"
For a moment he looked hurt – did she doubt it? - but he quickly hid the expression and nodded. "What's this about?"
"Is that it?" She searched his face for an answer to the question she was having so much difficulty phrasing. "I don't confide in anyone the way I do in you. Maybe Fairlight – no." She shook her head, looking away. When he didn't say anything, curiosity go the better of her and she looked at him again. "You... you make me angry like no one makes me angry."
His lips twitched into an irrepressible smile. "I could say the same thing." He stepped toward her, "Both things."
She nodded. This was not news to her. He'd told her himself, 'we mountain men don't talk about our feelings easily.' But he did, easily or not. He talked to her, told her the truth in all its infuriating complexity. "And when I'm with you..." this was the hard part, she sighed, "I don't want to be anywhere else in the world." She looked away, losing her nerve. "I know I've no right to say it. I'm sorry, I should go."
"Don't." He stepped forward, took hold of her arms. "Don't go." When she wouldn't look up at him he kept talking, "Isn't love meant to be the answer to everything? Isn't that what Alice is always going on about?"
"That's over-simplifying a little." She looked up at him, "My loving you doesn't really change anything does it?" She knew it to be true but asked the question nonetheless, hoping to be proved wrong.
He smiled, nodded, the smile still growing, "Yes, it does."
"How?" She asked, hanging onto his assurance, his confident smile. That arrogance that had always driven her up the wall was now the most reassuring thing in the world.
"There has to be a way. Right now," he touched his fingers to her cheek, "I feel like I could do anything."
"But Neil,"
"No," he interrupted, pressing his thumb to her lips and shaking his head, "Don't say it. I want this moment, this day, untainted. We'll worry about the future then."
Looking into his eyes, the offer was so tempting. "You want to pretend."
"No, I want to be totally honest. I want to bare my soul and still have you look at me as if..." he shook his head, in disbelief or restrained hope, she wasn't sure which. "I am in love with you, Christy. Perhaps I have been since before... since I thought I was free to be so. It can't be sin to fall in love with someone when you believe yourself to be free."
There it was – he'd said it. He loved her. At some level she'd known, but to have it confirmed made her chest swell, her breath catch. No, she could not be swept away by this. "But now we do know. Loving you might not be a sin, but beyond that... I cannot act on these feelings. You cannot act. And I know how you love to be passive, patient."
He smiled but she forged on, refusing to be seduced by his smile, and those clear blue eyes that seemed to bore into her soul.
"Perhaps it would have been better – easier – if I hadn't come, if I hadn't said anything."
He shook his head, "I would have. I've come so close, many times."
"Really?"
He barely nodded, closing his eyes momentarily, then looking back up, into her eyes, waiting, pleading. The sheer force of his will was undeniable.
She couldn't move, couldn't flee like her mind was telling her to.
He brushed his lips against hers, then waited, as if giving her a final opportunity to leave. When she didn't move, he kissed her again, softly, his lips parted invitingly. It was tender, gentle, until she responded.
Her head spun and she leaned into him, reaching her hands out to touch his face. She kissed him back with soft, perhaps even experimental, restraint. She expected it to end then.
Feeling her willingness, he was undone. He opened her mouth against his own, any kind of restraint forgotten, his hands on her neck, in her hair.
She was caught entirely by surprise, finding herself kissing him as she'd never kissed before. It was a fierce dance, overwhelming and tantalizing, hot breaths and tongues, lips and hands, adoring and delighting.
Then he tore his mouth away, wrapping her tight in his arms, her face pressed into his shoulder. She heard his own fast breaths, and felt them against her neck, making her shiver. She could hear his heart beating and could feel it against her chest. And then her own ragged breaths and racing heartbeat drummed in her ears, on the off-beat of his, thrumming a frantic rhythm. She slipped her arms about his shoulders and pressed her hands against his back, hanging on, all the while telling herself to let go.
"I won't let you go." He loosened his grip on her, taking a deep breath, as if some perfect solution, and with it some self-control and restraint, might be inhaled if only his lungs had the capacity for it.
She forced her muscles to relax, let her arms fall to her sides. She looked up at him, now able to see his face again, and very nearly kissed his swollen lips, but tore her eyes away at the last moment. She stepped back and collided with the chair – that same chair that might be been a safety barrier. Turning, so as to see where she was walking, she realised the chair was too small an obstacle, if a marriage wasn't enough. She touched her hand to her lips. They felt strange.
"Christy."
She took another step before turning to face him. A little distance wouldn't hurt.
"There has to be a way."
"I need to go home, to think. And pray."
He nodded and walked past her to the door, opening it for her.
She followed and then walked past him, descended the steps and untied Prince. Reigns in hand she turned back to him. He was half-way down the stairs, watching her with concern and longing.
She smiled, "I just wanted to tell you that I love you. That's all."
He reached out and took her free hand, lifting it and pressing his lips to her knuckles. He was almost reverent, eyes closed against the reality and complexity of everything except her love for him. Then he lifted his face, opened his eyes, still holding her hand. "I will endeavour," he let go of her hand, as if to do so was an example of his determination, "to be worthy of it."
She mounted Prince and nudged him homeward, looking back at Neil till he was out of sight. She let Prince have the reigns, trot or not, all the way along the familiar path home. Rational thought was beyond her. The mission was in sight before she was able to think of anything except potent memories. Standing on the edge of the river, his arms around her, "there is nothing there that compares with the beauty I find at this moment, on this river," his touch on her cheek, "it's the dance that matters," he placed a wreath of laurel in her hair and smiled, "I want to bare my soul... I'm in love with you," and then he kissed her, she breathed in and inhaled his scent, surrounded by the heat of his body, her mind set spinning by the pressure of his tongue against hers. What had she done? Was that it? Loving him might not be a sin, might not be a choice at all, but today they'd crossed a line. Which line, exactly, she wasn't sure. They'd been unwise, absolutely, risky and thoughtless, swept away... yes. Had they done wrong? By one another? By Margaret? Or Alice? Or God? Christy shook her head, she could see David in the aisle of the school. He looked out and saw her approach.
She couldn't face him now. Forcing a friendly smile, a wave, she rode on to the mission. She stabled Prince and brushed him down.
David found her just as she was finishing. "The children are at recess. Is everything alL right?"
She nodded, smiled, though not very convincingly.
"Good," He seemed convinced, nonetheless. "I wanted to talk to you."
He must have seen her wariness, the twinge of anxiety that undoubtedly gave her away.
"I suppose the middle of the school day might not be the best time," he smiled, "but after school, might we take a walk?"
She nodded, there was no putting this off any more. "Yes, let's. So tell me, where are the children up to? I can take them for the afternoon." The distraction would be welcome.
"Your timing couldn't be better. We've covered bible and mathematics. I'll leave you to it." He gave her a stunning smile, hesitated, clearly wanting to do or say more, then pulled himself away. "I'll come by the school later."
She nodded and let him leave, gathering her courage, her composure. She could do this, she told herself. She could keep going as if her heart weren't about the beat its way right out of her chest, as if the memory of Neil's kiss wouldn't interrupt her thoughts, and as if the fear of its never being repeated didn't turn her stomach.
She jogged up the hill to the school, greeting the students she passed. Inside, she took a deep breath, strode up the aisle. She could do this. She found a lesson and made the final preparations, hoping this might distract her without demanding more attention than she could give it.
