"Even those who never fully blossom bring beauty to the world."

~Author Unknown

Chapter Six

So much for lifting my spirits.

Christy had started the day well enough, but just after ten o'clock, as David took over the bible lessons for the class, Vincent McHone rushed into the schoolhouse to fetch Christy. His baby sister had died overnight and his mother was in a state of shock. Opal sent for Christy, hoping she would help 'fix the baby up real pretty' as Opal and Fairlight were both too upset to see to the task.

Christy had never seen a dead child. In fact, the only dead person she had ever viewed was Grandfather Rudd and he had been well past his prime in life. This beautiful soul had been on earth for a mere four days and had already passed into heaven. The cause of the baby's death was something Christy had never heard of before, something Fairlight called 'liver-growed'. Both women were too upset for Christy to ask what that exactly was, so she knew she would have to ask Neil about it.

Christy had dug through the mission's used clothing barrels for a baby dress and found some ribbons in her room that she had saved from various dresses and hats she had made-over. She put them in a basket with soap and towels and some thread and a needle in case she had to fix the dress to better fit the small child.

Christy had not been to the McHone cabin before, she had only seen Tom and Opal at church, and Opal had once been at the Spencers when Christy called on Fairlight. The directions, although a little confusing, managed to get Christy to the cabin, set in a horseshoe shaped bend in a creek. The little cabin was surrounded by the creek on three sides, with huge old trees growing in front. Christy thought it was a beautiful setting, but the cabin itself was in terrible disrepair.

To say Opal looked haunted was an understatement. Never had Christy seen anyone age so much in only a few days. The last time Christy saw Opal was ten days earlier at church, when she still carried the child inside her. Opal had been excited to meet the baby, was happy and laughing, hoping it would be gal-baby after three rambunctious boys. How quickly her joy had been taken away.

Opal guided Christy to where Fairlight sat, cradling the dead baby in her arms. Fairlight's face, so usually bright and cheery was dull and she appeared to have had the life drained from her eyes.

"Thank ya fer comin'," Fairlight said. "Opal thought she were liver- growed, but the usual treatment didn't help none."

Again, with that mysterious ailment.

"Shall we wash her first?" Christy smiled sadly. "I brought a new dress that was at the mission and I will fancy it up with some pretty ribbons, if you would like."

Opal nodded and then walked out of the room sobbing.

"Where is Mr. McHone?" Christy asked Fairlight in a whisper.

"He's been gone neigh on three weeks already. Went hunting, Opal told me."

Christy and Fairlight washed the tiny infant. She was perfect in every way, and even in death she was beautiful. Her mouth was the shape of a heart, her nose just a tiny little bump surrounded by chubby cheeks. Liver-growed had caused this death?

Once they had the baby, who to Christy felt more like a limp doll, dressed, Christy sewed ribbons into flowers and made a headband of roses across the little one's forehead. She felt almost as if she were playing with her dolls, and somehow that made the whole experience less difficult, less real.

"Aw Miz Christy, she's so purty." Opal whispered as she reverently touched the ribbon roses on her daughter's forehead. "Ain't no one in the Cove never had ribbons 'afore. I'm much obleeged to ya."

Christy reached forward and gave Opal a tight hug. She let the woman hold her as long as she needed to. She had no words of comfort, no understanding of why a baby was allowed to die. Uncle Bogg walked in the cabin and finally Opal pulled away. Bogg was her father-in-law.

"Did you find him?" Opal asked.

He shook his head, sadly staring down at the baby. "She's a right pretty angel, Opal. Tom'll be here if he hears about 'er."

Sadness filled Christy's heart at the realization that Tom had never even met his daughter. She needed to leave, it was getting hard for her to breathe. She said goodbye to Fairlight and Opal. Uncle Bogg opened the door for her.

"Thank you for what you done for our family, Miz Christy."

She could only nod, her throat was thick with unshed tears. She went toward the one place she knew she could get comfort, the only person she wanted to be with at that moment.

She had ridden Prince to the McHone's and after securing the basket to the back of the saddle she climbed on and slowly walked toward Neil's cabin. He wasn't there, but Charlie was, so she knew he could not be too far. Scanning the river, she saw him sitting on a log, and found it odd that he had no rod in his hand.

He turned as he heard her coming, first a smile of greeting crossing his face, then a frown marred his perfectly handsome, rugged face.

"Christy, you seemed rather troubled?"

"I'm confused, Neil." Christy tried to hold back the tears. "Why did the baby die?"

"Are you referring to the McHone infant?"

She nodded. "I helped lay her out." Her heart was pounding a mixture of anger at the injustice of the death and sadness at the loss of an innocent life.

"And you have stormed here to question if I have failed in my duties to her?" His voice was rising. His anger made her quiver inside but she had to understand. "You believe I was remiss in failing to treat the baby?"

"I need to know, Neil," Christy said. "I need to know, why did she die? Why did you not treat her?"

He stood up, angrier than Christy had ever seen him and pointed his pipe at her. "I have known Opal McHone my whole life, Christy, do you think I do not mourn the child?" His yell echoed across the river. He glared at her and then looked away. "Her granny was true Scotch-Irish, revered in the Cove, some of what she said was sound, some of it was worthless superstition, like this liver- growed ailment."

"So, there is no such thing?" Christy yelled.

"No, damn it! That is what I am trying to tell you!" He yelled back. "There is no such thing as liver- growed, it's an old-wives tale, and what Opal likely did to end the child's crying ended up killing her instead."

"So, it's Opal's fault?" Christy yelled back.

He rounded on her, but she held her ground. "Here is the truth, Christy Huddleston," he said, pointing the tip of his pipe at her." If I went against her Granny's word, Opal would stop listening to me, and so would everyone else here in the Cove." He growled this time, anger turning his eyes dark, and his body tense. He stormed passed her, toward his cabin, but she was not done yet.

"So, rather than fighting against superstition, and standing by your known scientific treatments, a little girl died?"

He turned around and stalked back toward her. He looked menacing but she knew he would never hurt her. "You have no idea what I go through practicing medicine here. Over the last year, I have had one hundred- and seventy-four-night calls. I dug for bullets, I sutured knife wounds and I tried to even fixed gouged out eyes. I'd love to have the time to teach mothers to care for their babies, with scientific facts, but this mountain contains a world full of hate, and I am only one man. I am sorry, if I am not the man you thought I was, and I am not good enough for you." He stormed further through the trees.

She caught her breath, realizing he didn't understand what she came here for, that he was grieving and hurting so much more than she was. Instead of realizing his pain and trying to soothe him as he had always done for her, she had riled his temper, making him feel even worse.

"Neil, wait!" she called, running after him, her skirts flying. He didn't pause a second, merely continued stalking ahead.

She caught his hand and pulled him back to face her. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." She pushed herself against him, and wrapped her arms around his waist, praying he would accept her comfort. His body remained stiff but at least he did not move away.

"I was being selfish," she whispered against his broad-barreled chest. "Of course, you would have helped. I forget sometimes that these are your people, who you have known them your whole life. Even more than that, you would never let anyone be hurt or in pain." She tightened her hold on him but he still stood stiff. "I just… I need to understand." She pulled back and looked up into his angry face. "Neil, I care about you." She reached up and cupped his cheek. "You were the first person I turned to, and I did not come to here criticize you, but just to understand."

He relented, and pulled her against his chest.

"You have always comforted me, Neil MacNeill, take some of my strength this time." He tightened his hold on her and then she felt his body relax.

She wasn't sure how long they stood holding each other, but when he pulled away, he grabbed her hand and caressed her cheek with his other hand. "Can you come up to the cabin? I would like to be with you."

She nodded with a smile, her tears slowly fading from her eyes. "My time is all yours today, Neil."

As they walked, he pushed aside brush and tree limbs, until they reached the hill below his cabin. "I overreacted, Christy, I should have listened to you before getting so angry. No one blames me more than I blame myself when someone dies here."

He led her to the end of the porch where two hardback chairs sat around a square table. He had fishing items spread on the table. Without thinking, she picked one up to study it more closely. When she looked up and caught his startled look. She quickly set it back down. "I'm sorry."

"No need to apologize," he said. "I was surprised you were interested."

"It's just so intricate." She picked it up again and studied it closer. "What are the shiny things?"

"Beads," he answered. "They are called flies or lures. The key is to entice a fish is to make it look like something they would eat."

She set it back down and picked up another. "You use feathers for the wing part. These are almost too pretty to feed to a fish." She smiled at him.

"Have you ever fished?" he asked.

She shook her head before sitting at the table. "My father is not much of an outdoorsman."

"Will you allow me to teach you?"

"I would love it," she answered. If she were honest with herself, she wanted to be with him more and more.

"Another day then, perhaps next week if the weather cooperates."

She nodded. "If you let me know when, I can bring supper."

"Fishing, a meal, and you? That, my dear girl, is perhaps the best evening I could wish for." He sat next to her.

"Will you make a special fly just for me?" she asked, teasing.

"I can start one now, if you'd like to talk while I work?"

"You're sure you have nothing else pressing?" she asked.

"All I was planning on this afternoon was looking at my research." He reached for some thread, and one of the shiny beads. "Do you remember when I said that I do many things as a doctor, but I have one area I consider my specialty?"

"Yes, I do." She nodded. "And, I believe you promised to share that with me sometime."

"After we finish our discussion from the river, I will show you what I have devoted most of my medical career to, if you still wish to know?"

"You shouldn't even need to ask," she chided. "Of course, I wish to know."

"You aren't just saying that?"

"Neil, if you and I are courting, I want to know everything about you. That wasn't a dream of mine, right? You do wish to keep company with me?"

He grinned. "Yes, ma'am I do."

"Well, then for starters, how about you calmly tell me about this fictious liver-growed ailment."

He sighed, then nodded. "Would you like something to drink? I am not used to having company actually stay. Usually people grab me, and drag me away somewhere at all hours of the day and night."

"Do you have some tea? I'll be happy to go boil some water."

"I better do it. I'm not the neatest housekeeper. Had I known I would have such a wonderful companion today, I would have straightened up. I will make some tea. Sugar or honey?"

She smiled. "Surprise me!"

Her brother George's room at home was a disaster. Her father's library was often cluttered but her mother saw to tidying up as needed. The day Christy spent with Neil here, waiting for her clothes to dry, she had not noticed the cabin being particularly cluttered. Perhaps he had been extra busy as of late.

This was a lovely spot. This portion of his porch overlooked the river and had nice shade from a tall, nearby tree. She hoped she would have many opportunities to sit here and read or draw or sew. Just watching him create his lures might be entertainment enough. Maybe in time he would even let her make her own.

"What has you grinning?" he asked joining her.

"I was thinking how pretty it is here." She took the cup from his outstretched hand. "Thank you."

"It's hot now, let it cool."

"Yes, Doctor."

He ignored his own advice and took a sip from his mug. "Now then, liver-growed?

She nodded. "Please?" She took a sip of the tea, pleased he had chosen honey.

"I imagine the baby was fretting, and with Tom away, Opal was likely extra upset. Granny Barclay said the delivery was smooth, so I did not check on Opal. I don't usually unless it's the woman's first baby or if Granny tells me to." He grinned. "She delivered me and my brother and sister, too. She probably delivered almost everyone in the Cove."

"Would she have known about a problem with the baby when it was born?"

"No, not necessarily," he answered. "Some problems crop up days and even weeks later. If the baby was upset it could have been many things, but liver-growed is not one of them."

"Why did the baby die?" she whispered.

He reached forward and took her hand. He kissed her knuckles before continuing in a very soft, almost tender voice. "Opal must have tried many other things first. I hope she did, anyway. To check if a child has this problem, the herbalists tell a mother to lay the baby flat on its back and see if the right foot could touch its left hand. Supposedly, if it can, the baby is not liver-growed. If it cannot, then the baby is."

"So, if Opal thought the baby was, what is the cure?"

He glanced at her and waited a bit before answering, as if judging whether she could handle the truth or not.

"Tell me," she insisted.

He chuckled. "Fairlight was right when she said you want to know everything, and soak it all up at once."

"It's true." She nodded, with a small grin. "I just feel so ignorant sometimes. This mountain and its people are a mystery to me in so many ways."

He squeezed her hand gently. "You are not ignorant, just unaware. Life is very different here, but you are doing fine, Christy. And, by the way, I think it's wonderful you want to understand life here." He kissed her hand again, and kept it locked in his grasp.

She wanted this to be her home, but she wasn't ready to tell him that just yet. She did not want to lead him on, because the way her life seemed to seesaw in these mountains, another catastrophe could hit at any moment and throw her off balance yet again.

"To cure the baby," he continued, "Opal likely grabbed the baby by her ankles and swung her ten times. One of the times may have broken the baby's neck or back."

She swallowed. "Ten times? By her ankles? Oh, Neil, she was such a fragile little thing."

"The saddest thing," he said looking in his mug, "is that it could just have been a tummy ache. Some babies do not digest their mama's milk and need a supplement. Even if her other children did fine nursing, this one might have had an issue."

"Does that happen often?"

"No." He shook his head and smiled up at her. "Most babies do just fine nursing, and as Granny Barclay and Alice will be quick to add, it is best for both mother and child to nurse."

"Opal didn't ask you to come see the baby." It was a statement, not a question.

"She did not," he said on a sigh. "She won't let me look at Toot either."

"What do you think is wrong with Toot?" Christy asked. "To me he looks so tired all the time and quite pale."

He frowned. "Can you tell me more, Christy? I know he is often sleeping after school. I have visited a few times and Isaak and Vincent tell me he is in bed. I can't imagine you work the youngsters so hard that they would need to nap after school?"

"I don't try to, anyway. There are days I need a nap after school, especially when Creed is especially riled up." She chuckled. "Toot puts his head down a lot during lessons. I know he is trying to stay awake so I don't reprimand him for it. He watches, rather than plays ball with the boys. He seems pale, and even one day I thought he looked rather more yellow than pinky skinned."

"He's smaller than the other boys his age?"

She nodded. "He's a year older than Burl, but smaller, and I think Burl is pretty skinny."

"It could be any number of things," Neil told her. "If you notice him getting worse, would you let me know?"

"Yes, absolutely. Why won't she let you see Toot?"

"Christy, the McHone's are just as poor as the O'Teales. The only difference is Opal has Fairlight to help her keep things in order, and growing up, Opal was taught how to care for a home. She is a very simple woman, but does well with what little she has." He leaned forward. "Promise me you will not chastise or blame her for this passing."

"How could I? It is her baby, she has to be so broken hearted…" She stared at him for a moment, wondering if she should ask him about his own son.

"What are you thinking?" he asked. "Every time you bite your lip, I know you have something on your mind."

"You're getting to know me too well," she smiled wryly.

"You just as well tell me," Neil said.

Tears clouded her eyes. "I was thinking about your son." She blinked back the tears and sniffled. "I'm so sorry, Neil. I cannot fathom the pain that you must have experienced."

"I have never spoken about it with anyone," he whispered. He pulled away from her and looked out over the porch.

She flushed. "I shouldn't have said anything, I apologize."

"Eventually, we would have spoken of him, Christy, and Margaret. I don't wish to hold anything back from you. Trust is something that comes hard to me. It comes back to what we spoke about, after your visit to the O'Teales, the fact that everyone knows everyone else's business. I have tried to be as private as possible, but it has led to loneliness, and until we met, I did not realize just how really alone I feel sometimes. I do trust you and very much want to confide everything in you. Is that overwhelming to you?"

"No, because I already confide everything in you." She sniffed away her tears. "It's only fair that I do my best to be your confidante, the person you can turn to, no matter what."

"I hope you have some strong shoulders, Christy."

"I do." She nodded. "For you, anyway."

"It's been over three years since Margaret and the baby died, and most days I don't think of them, but when you came upon me, at the river, that is what I was thinking about." He grinned. "Could you read my mind?"

"Maybe. I somehow just knew I needed to be with you. After leaving the McHone's you were the only person I wanted to be with; that only you could make me feel better."

"Have I?"

"I'm still sad," she said. "I understand a little better, I suppose. Just know, I did not come here to blame you or criticize you. I just… needed you."

"And I needed you, although I didn't realize that, until you held me." He stood up and pulled her to stand, too. "Come with me and I'll show you my research."

"Alright."

Apparently, he was not ready to talk about Margaret or their child, so rather than push the issue, she followed him into the cabin. It was not spotless, but it was hardly a mess. She could have easily made it to the stove to make her tea.

He stopped in front of the locked door and after pulling a key from his pocket, unlocked the padlock. "I keep the door locked for two reasons. I have strong medicines in here that I do not want people to have access to, and my research has been my tightly held secret for years."

"Thank you for trusting me with this."

He took her hand and led her inside the long narrow room, which was like a laboratory she saw at the college she attended. She looked around in awe of all the colorful bottles and books. Pictures of human anatomy hung on one wall, and on the opposite wall, hung long oversized diagrams of the human eye.

"Trachoma is what I am studying, Christy. It is a scourge on my people. The eyes become irritated and from small granulations like sand crystals on the inside of the eyelids. I know you do not like the sight of blood, but what about graphic drawings?"

She shrugged. "Show me."

He opened a journal and showed her some sketches of the scabs and sores inside an eyelid of a person with Trachoma. "The crystals rub against the eyeballs, causing discharge and burning and eventually the eyeballs harden and dry out, leaving a person completely blind."

"What causes it?" she whispered.

"I believe it is a bacterium found in the soil. Somehow a person rubs it in their eyes or ingests it and it only effects their eyes. Some years ago, I was able to petition the state to open a temporary eye hospital at Lyleton to help people not only with Trachoma but other eye ailments, like crossed eyes, cataracts, and Glaucoma."

"I thought the crossed eyes and lazy eyes were from intermarrying?"

He nodded. "Some are, surely, but lazy eyes can be strengthened. My real passion is to find a cure for Trachoma."

"Because of your aunt Hattie?"

"Partly." He nodded. "Partly, because I am fascinated with the human eye. And might I say, Miss Huddleston, you have the most beautiful ones I have ever seen?"

She looked up from the drawings in the journal and smiled. "Thank you. Yours are awfully captivating also. They are the most unique shade between blue and gray and green I have ever seen. I think if I were to try for a year, I could never quite get the colors of my pencils combined just right to match the shade."

"You've tried?"

"I have." She smiled. "I will show you my sketches one day. Now, tell me more. There is not a cure for it, otherwise you would not still be researching it. Are there successful treatments? Can it be reversed if it's caught early enough?"

"I have tried two different preparations on people at Lyleton. I work with two ophthalmologists from Knoxville who come to Lyleton on a Saturday about every five weeks. We see dozens of patients on that day, with all sorts of eye conditions, but I have been focused on the Trachoma. The preparations I have tried so far seem promising. It took me some time to get the balance correct in the salve, and I am certain I will still be changing it in time. There is a hospital in Baltimore, a specialized hospital for eyes, ears, noses and throats that I share my research with, and a former colleague of mine from Philadelphia is now there, too, so together we may be able to eventually cure this."

"And you do it all here?" She looked around the room. "I find that incredible. I would think you would need a sophisticated laboratory to develop such medicines."

"Someday I might." He took her hand in his and squeezed. "Christy, my real dream is to one day go to Vienna and study with a man named Ernst Fuchs. He has done some incredible trials on the eye, and one day, I would love to work there for a year or so and just focus on the eye."

"So, what's holding you back from going now?" she asked.

He looked away. Had she gone too far?

"Forgive me." She looked away, out the big window shining light in the small room. "I seem to be treading on too many personal topics today."

He ignored her question and her apology. Instead, he asked, "Would you consider… that is … well this Saturday is my Lyleton day. Jeb Spencer and I leave early, just before dawn and take a small wagon full of eye patients. I will be bringing two children from the same family this time, a five and a seven-year-old from Low Gap and I think if you were there it might be less frightening for them."

"Their mother doesn't wish to go?" How flattering that he should invite her to come and see up close what he concentrated his career on!

"She has six more children to care for at home. She is a very nice woman, and I am certain she would come, if she could. The children have gone without care until now. Both have a lazy eye. The actual term for that is amblyopia."

"Amblyopia," she repeated.

He nodded, and gave her a small smile. "Very good. I plan to give them a thorough exam with the instruments at the hospital and then see if we cannot strengthen those eyes. The five-year-old also has a cataract which is a small spot on the eye that is cloudy. One of the other doctors, Ted Wilson, from Knoxville has had great success with a method called couching, which shifts the lens on the eye and displaces the cataract spot. I hope she is a candidate for that procedure."

She bit her lip from asking another question.

"Go ahead, ask."

"What?" she laughed.

He chuckled. "You were doing it again, biting that lip of yours, and you really cannot hide anything in those eyes of yours."

"I shall save the question for another time. Yes, I would be glad to go with you on Saturday. I would very much like to see Lyleton and the hospital. I will do my best to entertain the children as well. I'll bring books or my drawing supplies for them."

"Thank you." His grin turned large, and that small strand of unruly, curly hair flopped over his forehead giving him a little bit of a devilish look.

"Now, it's my turn to ask what you are thinking." She grinned.

He actually flushed! "I would like to kiss you."

"And?" she challenged.

"I'm not certain we are at that place in this courtship to do that."

She grinned, but inside she was shaking with the prospect. "Are there rules for such things, or is it not the couple which decides?"

"I always supposed it was the woman that decided when it was time to move ahead," he said.

"I would very much like you to kiss me, Neil," she whispered and stepped closer.

"Alright. However, this has to be special, you know." He cupped her cheeks in his rough hands. "Our first kiss."

"No pressure. If you fail, I'll give you another try," she teased.

He pinched her.

"Ouch!"

"That did not even hurt, but here, let me take your mind off of it."

Here we go, she thought, as he tipped his head and finally kissed her. How many days had she been waiting to feel his lips on hers? It didn't take long for the gentle pressure to become more insistent and when he parted her lips with his tongue, she pulled back.

"Oh," she whispered.

"No?" he looked concerned.

"I've never…" she said shyly, struggling to meet his eyes. "Teach me?"

His smile was wide again, as he picked up where he had just left off, leaving her breathless and clinging to him, wanting more. A groan escaped her mouth and she ran her hands over his chest to cross the back of his head, her fingers gently teasing the curly locks resting on the nape of his neck.

"UUUUUUUnited States Mail!"

Neil pulled away with a growl and a huge exhale. He was wearing a silly grin on his face. "Thank you," he whispered and kissed her quickly before leaving her standing in a daze.

She was able to calm her heart rate enough to follow after him, closing the door behind her. What in the world had just happened? A simple kiss, well it was not simple, but a kiss had just caused her world to tilt upside down.

Ben was standing just outside the door on the porch. "Well, howdy Miss Huddleston, you're here!"

"Hello, Mr. Pentland." She was sure she was flushed, but she could hardly do anything to fix that.

"It'll save me a few steps up to the mission if you'd take these here letters. Well, three of 'em are fer you anyways. Oh, and a box."

The mailman handed several journal type magazines to Neil, and then reached in his pouch and pulled out the mail for the mission.

"You don't mind now, do you, Miss Huddleston?"

"No, not at all." She shook her head as she glanced at the letters he had given her.

"Aw, that's a fine relief." Mr. Pentland took her seat at the table with the fly fishing supplies. "Doc, since you're here and those were the final letters, might you have a looksee at my ankle? It's been giving me some grief here lately."

"I guess I'll be heading off," Christy said. She did not want to go, but it would be awkward to stay. "Thank you for the mail, Mr. Pentland. I hope your ankle gets to feeling better."

"Let me walk you back to the horse," Neil said. "Ben, there's coffee on the stove, help yourself."

She jogged down the cabin steps.

"How did I do?" he asked, helping her climb on Prince's back.

"With what?" She acted confused.

"Ha, ha," he said.

"Perfect." She smiled coyly. "I might need a little more practice, though. Know anyone willing to help?"

He pinched the toe of her shoe. "It had better just be me you're practicing those skills with."

She rolled her eyes in mock exasperation. "Alright." Then, she smiled.

"I'm headed to Raven's Gap until Friday to do my rounds. Can you be here at dawn on Saturday?"

"Yes, I will be here. Be safe." She held out her hand and he took it, kissing her knuckles. "I'll miss you while you're gone."

"You mean it?" he asked, a hopeful look on his face.

"I do." She smiled and then pulled Prince away.

She licked her lips and still tasted the coffee and tobacco from Neil's kiss. She giggled. If that was their first kiss, how wonderful would other things be? This courtship was certainly an interesting experiment so far.