Chapter 2 - Scientific Inquiry
Boom! Neil MacNeill bolted out of his covers and surveyed his surroundings with dimmed eyes. Girlish laughter rang down the walls and he heard Ruby Mae shouting to Miss Alice of her blunder. What was he doing on a cot in Grantland's bunkhouse?
Ah, he remembered. LuLu Spencer's rash. Festus Allen's compound fracture from falling off a barn roof. Eating a quick dinner at his cabin. Riding to the mission to convince Grantland against sermonizing. Foolishness, Neil thought to himself, and certainly wanted to say it. Not even Cicero could rebuttal against David's dogmatism.
He took a fortifying breath, stretched his tense back muscles, and massaged the grogginess from his sleep-deprived eyes. You're becoming an old man, Neil. You can't be sleeping on other people's cots anymore.
Unbending himself from the makeshift bed, he stumbled around the room looking for the water basin, the faint smell of rosewater clung to him from the sheets. It was Christy's smell. She must have washed David's linens. Neil inhaled sharply.
While David's was certainly smaller and less tidy than his old cabin in the woods, he couldn't help but notice a feminine presence his own sorely lacked. A milk pitcher, full of lavender, sat on the hearth, a fire roaring underneath. A vase of wildflowers sat beside the uncomfortable couch he had sat on last night arguing with David until the wee hours of the night. A pastoral landscape hung sturdily above the fireplace, depicting a shepherd surrounded by white balls of sheep. Several steps over was more or less a kitchen - a cast iron stove, countertops, and an open door pantry.
"Good morning, Doctor." The front door swung wide, and David's tall stature filled the doorway. "I see you've finally woken up. Breakfast is in the main house if you're interested in some."
"What time is it?" Neil scratched at the unbuttoned part of his haired chest, feeling out of sorts half dressed in front of the starched reverend.
"Just after eight. Church starts in about an hour if you'd like to join us. . . regardless of the topic, or your opinions, you are always welcome."
That'll encourage an agnostic like me to come.
"I'll take you up on that offer, Grantland. I'd like to see what happens."
David's jaw flexed in irritation, a small victory in Neil's eyes. "I'll see you at the church." He grabbed his gray woolen coat from a wooden peg on the wall and shut the door closed behind him.
Faint bird calls carried through the opened window, a stream of crisp air billowing out the faint smell of mildew. An armoire and trunk sat in one corner of the room beside a wash basin and a cracked mirror hanging by a thread on the wall. Forgoing shaving, largely in part because he left his straight blade at home, he splashed cold water on his face, a rivulet coursing down his thick neck, and scrubbed his teeth. If he was showing up to church for the first time in years, he may as well look the part. And seeing Christy, well, he wanted to look nice for her too.
The image of the young schoolteacher summoned an unbidden smile. He liked fire in a woman, and Christy heated him like a warm blaze on a cold winter's night. He enjoyed challenging her. . . seeing that nose bunch up in frustration. . . She was a worthy sparring partner and rose to the occasion to box his ears. And beautiful. And gentle with the children he delivered. And different. Sometimes, he felt like a round peg in a square hole; when he was around her, he could just be.
He changed out of his nightshirt and put on a red plaid flannel, a brown vest, and his slicker. Sliding his stocking feet into his riding boots, he walked to the stable to feed Charlie, whistling a cheery tune to himself. Pleasantly surprised that he was already eating grain from a trough, he patted his gelding on the shoulder and walked into the main cabin.
Christy, Ruby Mae, and Alice sat around the table full of buckwheat pancakes, blueberries, scrambled eggs, and fried bacon. His stomach grumbled greedily at the feast before him.
Alice rose regally from her seat, her generous eyes smiling at him. "Neil! David told us thee were here. Please, join us. We have more than enough to spare."
"Thank you, Alice. I cannot say no to such a table before me." He sat down, tucked a napkin into his vest, and ate with quiet pleasure. Christy sat stoically beside him in a lumpy sweater that dwarfed her petite frame. Leave her be this time, Mac. She doesn't need your grief so early in the morning. Neil knew better than engaging her moodiness, especially in the morning. He poured warm maple syrup on his pancakes and practically groaned at how delicious it was. It sure beat his overcooked grits and eggs any day.
Ruby Mae chattered about like a sparrow, perched and preening for all to see her. He looked up from his meal and saw the topic of conversation — her new hat — gave a gruff nod, and continued slicing his pancakes with clean precision.
"Doc, you cut your flapjacks like it's one of your patients! I ain't never seen a man eat so fast!"
Neil grinned at the girl's impertinence, remembering Christy's similar nature last night. "I suppose I'm trying to catch up from the meals I've missed this week!"
"Give Dr. MacNeill some time to eat in peace, child." Miss Alice rescued him from answering Ruby Mae further. "We appreciate thee spending thy morning with us. Did thee sleep well?"
"I slept like a log, thank you. I hope my snoring didn't keep you awake, Grantland?" Neil eyed the reverend studiously. David stood at the doorway of the dog trot with a mug full of steaming coffee, a hooded look about his eyes.
David was a handsome young man, Neil would give him that. His dark brown hair, almost black, and his warm eyes were quite different than his shaggy reddish blond hair and hazel eyes. He knew his face looked like it was carved from wood with a blunt knife - jagged and bristled and coarse. Even nine years ago at David's age, his face was still deeply etched in wrinkled lines from reading manuscripts over candlelight and working under the Tennessee sun.
"I can sleep through a forest fire, but I appreciate the concern. I shared a bunkhouse with seminarians before I came here. . . let's just say you learn to be adaptable."
Neil grinned at the thought of the straight-laced reverend sharing a bunkhouse with a dozen other men. As Neil usually thought, there were more complex layers than David let on.
"And you, Doctor, did you share a dormitory with other men during your time at Jefferson Medical College?"
Neil wiped his lips with a napkin and nodded. "I did. I shared a bunk with quite a few mates of mine. We still swap correspondence every now and then. Do you?"
"Every month. They were quite surprised I came to Cutter Gap. Thought I was going into 'hillbilly territory,' or some such. I have to admit, they are not wrong in some aspects."
Christy rushed immediately into the conversation, no doubt to preserve Ruby Mae's tender feelings. "Oh, hush, David. Not many pastors can say they've built their church with their own two hands. Why, your classmates are preaching in stone castles in Boston!" Her quick maneuvering of the conversation to appease David's pride and Ruby Mae's good opinion impressed Neil.
"And above all these put on love, which binds everything together in perfect harmony. And let the peace of Christ rule in thy hearts, to which indeed thee were called in one body. And be thankful. Let the word of Christ dwell in thee richly, teaching and admonishing one another in all wisdom, singing psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, with thankfulness in thy hearts to God." Miss Alice quoted, the wistfulness in her eyes a glimpse of Margaret's former youthfulness. The words, while strangely familiar to Neil, loosened his quick tongue and silenced him. Alice had gently rebuked the two of them, but Neil felt it was also for his own benefit.
His heart rarely felt at peace. . . and being called in one body? He experienced unity amongst the highlanders before college, but he wasn't fooling himself at the unstated distance between them. He was a wise man, and no doubt the most educated in the cove, but why did he feel so idiotic? He felt an impending conversation with Miss Alice later.
After sinking into the last pew beside Ben Pentland, whose eyes all but bulged out of their sockets, he crossed a leg over his knee and waited for the show to begin. The smell of the hymnal reminded him of his mother and the peace in her eyes when she sang. . . and when she passed away. The music. . . Ben's screeching. . . Jeb Spencer's lively tenor. . . it suited him.
Grantland's sermon is extraordinary, Neil thought to himself. He held a captive audience, potentially due to the subject matter, but Neil knew a public speaker when he met one. And, to his surprise, he had not yet once mentioned public affection.
Neil's eyes wandered the families sitting in front of him. He spied out Jeb Spencer and his sons beside Bob Allen and his four boys. John Spencer seemed to squirm a little in his pew. His eyes then sought for Christy. Sitting at the front beside Fairlight and her daughters, she looked like a fresh wildflower after shedding her sweater, her puffy white shirtwaist enhancing her image. She turned her head and locked eyes with him suddenly before turning away. Not wanting to reveal his conflicted feelings, he fixed his eyes at the front for the remainder of the sermon.
"Affection, held for our brothers and sisters in Christ, should be within the most sacred." Neil gripped his mouth shut in case a chuckle escaped him. "Solomon, arguably the wisest man on the face of the earth, said that passion needs to be bridled like a mule or a horse. If you are married, keep your affections private. If you are unmarried, keep your affections to yourself. As Jesus told His disciples, so I tell you: it is better for you to pluck out an eye or cut off your hand if it is leading you to sin against God. Let us pray."
Out of the corner of Neil's eye, Ben Pentland scratched his head dumbfoundedly before removing his hat from his balding head.
After the service, the mailman turned to the good doctor. "Shorely, I ain't a-lovin' my sister, Doc. I don't rightfully understand."
"Well, I think the preacher was saying all men and women are God's children - brothers and sisters and the like."
"I got me a gal up in El Pano way. She sure don't mind me givin' her kisses. I certainly honor the sacred in her!" Ben clutched his hat to his overalls as if performing an encore. "Ya reckon I stop callin' on her?"
Neil laughed in spite of himself. "I think you'll be fine, Ben. I believe Grantland was speaking for the younger folk in the audience." His eyes wandered over Ben's shoulder to the pretty school teacher talking to David at the front of the church. His pulse quickened into an S-O-S.
If Ben Pentland, of all people, could be kissing a lady in El Pano, surely Neil could be too. . . After all, he was a single, independent man. With wants, and needs, just as any red-blooded male. It grated on his nerves. Neil walked down the aisle to Christy and David and tapped her shoulder.
"Neil!" Christy turned to him, fanning the lovely smell of rosewater to his nose. "How are you?"
"I am fine. I am actually quite impressed by the sermon, Reverend. You weren't too on the nose like I'd thought you'd be."
"Well, I'll take the backhanded compliment, Doc." The handsome man slapped his Bible shut. "I know what it's like to steal a couple kisses from pretty women. I can't say I've been completely chaste as I'd like to be."
Neil raised his eyebrows at the pretty blush spreading across the teacher's face. "And you, Christy? How did you like the sermon?"
"I thought David did a fine job." She held a gloved hand to her pinkened cheek and smiled demurely. "I am sure the audience it was intended for got the message clearly, and that's all that matters."
Neil couldn't resist ribbing her a bit. "I am sure." He leaned closer. "After all, the best kind of passion is done in private like I said." His intended innuendo hit the mark and her face turned scarlet. Neil cleared his throat and stood back up, a smugness creeping over his controlled smile. "You said you wanted to talk to me after church. Is this a good time?"
"Please, join us for lunch, Neil." David interrupted Neil with a thump of his bible on Neil's back. "Ruby Mae has chicken pot pie baking in the oven as we speak."
Hiding a grimace for Ruby Mae's less than savory cooking, he accepted the invitation and escorted Christy to the mission house.
After a stilted and surprisingly filling lunch, Neil eased his limbs down on the settee in the living room and crossed his arms over his chest. A doily tickled his ear and he pulled it out from behind his head and studied it. Cream ecru lace. It reminded him of the collars on Christy's dresses. He shut his eyes and envisioned pressing kisses down her supple neck. If she knew how quickly his thoughts changed about her. . . would she be able to stomach him?
"Neil, are you ready?" Christy touched his shoulder, stunting him momentarily. He cracked open his eyes and saw her arms full of teaching supplies.
"I am."
They settled to sit under the gazebo, the sun warming the back of his neck. He had forgone his coat earlier and rolled up his sleeves at the unusually hot day. "What would you like to discuss, Miss Huddleston?" His stormy eyes careened into hers, like a lost ship at sea.
"Why — straight to business! I wanted to talk about the sermon with you. Did it go how you'd wished?"
"Well, Grantland didn't flog them in public, so I guess we both won."
"Fair enough," her comment assured him that all was over.
The frame of the gazebo creaked in their companionable silence, and they both watched a heron float gently on the pond's surface. He drifted along the coastline before straightening himself onto the boardwalk. The heron gazed in their direction, sizing them up to be friend or foe, then promptly ignored them. Neil felt another pair of fine eyes watch him, and he shifted his large frame in the delicate scrollwork chair.
"Neil, what would you say to a four-week course in scientific inquiry?"
A smile gradually caught his face. "Scientific inquiry?" His brain funneled through several ideas, each pooling together in a concise plan for the students. He never particularly thought of the students' curriculum until Christy came along last year, and now his brain matched hers on the students' learning.
"Yes, like teaching students how to ask questions, finding and creating variables, testing the questions and collecting data and results. . . I think some of our lessons could take it a step further and actually teach things that are applicable. Like building a fire — I'm sure after many failed attempts, someone went back to the root issue and found the best way in lighting it or some such. You see, we can have the students —"
Christy's excited breathlessness encouraged him. "Pause, Christy, for a second. I am intrigued, but what brought this along?"
Her eyes brimmed with eagerness, encouraged by his positive response. "Well, I'm reading a book about scientific inquiry now, and I see that my students struggle to apply scientific reasoning to their daily lives. You do such an amazing job with the students. . . But what about teaching them to think scientifically - like when they do their chores, or baking a pie, or washing clothes, instead of just inside the classroom?" Christy looked down, suddenly shy, and toyed with the hem of her sleeve, her slender fingers dancing like tiny marionettes. "I want my students to be like you."
"I'm sorry, I didn't quite hear what you said."
Her blue eyes sought his. "I want my students to think like you did when you were their age: curious about life and the mind of science. And I want you to help me."
Her good opinion of him mattered, and her flattery rendered him speechless for a moment.
"Neil?" She questioned, insecurity weaving into her tone.
It was unfair of him to leave her guessing. "Pardon. I'd be glad to help in any way I can. You don't suppose we can talk about this more soon when I come better equipped, say next Sunday?"
"That is a reasonable time to meet back up. I can start outlining what we can include in the classroom. Oh, think about all we can do!"
In her excitement, she sprang from the chair and a sharp tearing noise cut through the spring afternoon stillness. A look of mortification spread across the young teacher's face as she observed her chair. A chunk of sky blue fabric clung to the scrollwork, and Neil let out a hearty chuckle at Christy's expense.
"I need to go, excuse me!" Christy gathered the tomes and ran to the mission before Neil stood up to offer her his assistance. He watched her retreating figure shrink until she was inside the brown mission house, her white petticoat a beacon against her blue dress. Laughing to himself, he eyed the blue fabric fluttering gently in the wind. Looking over his shoulder to see if anyone was watching, he pulled out a knife from his trouser pocket and cut the offending scrap off the chair before pocketing it in his vest.
Scripture:
Colossians 3:14-16