CHAPTER FIVE

MY FATHER ANSWERED the telephone the next morning. David helped me get the operator and connect to Asheville, and I was so pleased to hear Father's familiar voice that all the exertion of the past week seemed inconsequential; every frustration was worth it when it had helped make this call possible.

After waiting a moment for the difficult connection to go through, I listened as a few rings sounded and the telephone was picked up. "You have reached the Huddleston residence, this is John Huddleston," I heard my father say.

"Daddy?" I cried.

There was a brief, incredulous silence. "Girlie? Christy, love, is that you?" He sounded hoarse, either from emotion or the fuzzy telephone line.

"It's me, Daddy," I said, feeling the threat of tears surface even at the sound of his voice; oh, how I missed him! The sudden longing I felt for home was so sharp and strong that it was an almost physical ache.

"Girlie...it's such a joy to hear your voice," he said earnestly. "Your mother and George and I have missed you terribly; we were so afraid that..." He cut himself off, and again I wondered how they had borne it, fearing that I was dying so many miles away.

"I'm fine, Daddy," I replied, moving closer to the receiver as if I could somehow be nearer to him. "I really am. I feel much better – I'm eating well – and Doctor MacNeill allowed me to be up and out of bed again. Please don't worry; I'm better, truly."

I heard my father chuckle weakly. "I believe you, Girlie, but I would feel better hearing it from the doctor himself. Your mother and I have been so concerned."

Dr. MacNeill was away on a call, but Miss Alice was sitting nearby with her sewing; her serene manner would calm my father's fears, no doubt. "Just a minute, Daddy; Miss Alice is here. She can tell you." I made the request of her promptly, and with a knowing smile, she obligingly took up the receiver. "Mr. Huddleston? Yes, this is Alice Henderson...I can assure you that Miss Huddleston is well on her way to a complete recovery...Her fever ran very high and long, but all signs of it are gone now...Dr. MacNeill – yes, the doctor you spoke with last week – he is certain that there is no reason at all to expect a relapse...Pardon?...Oh, no, no, I understand entirely...Yes, it is...I shall thank him for you when he returns..."

They spoke for a few minutes longer, and then Miss Alice said goodbye and returned the line to me. My father sounded much more relieved, more cheerful, and we finished our conversation before he informed me that my mother was standing impatiently next to him, waiting to pounce on the telephone the instant he stopped talking. I laughed in delight, unable to imagine my proper and reserved mother doing any such thing.

"I had better let her talk, Girlie," he said, sotto voce. "Julia will never forgive me if I do not surrender the telephone soon." He paused. "I love you, Girlie. Take care of yourself."

"I love you too, Daddy."

I heard some shuffling and soft murmurs, and then my mother spoke. "Christy, darling?"

For a moment it was almost as if she was in the room with me, the lavender water she always wore delicately perfuming the air, her lovely face mild in repose as she worked on her accounts or her petit point. I reiterated all the assurances and affectionate words I had said to my father, and I knew, from the peculiar silences and sounds that occasionally reached me from her end, that she was crying, and I felt my own eyes fill in response.

"You will come home, won't you?" she asked finally, hopefully, just as I knew she would. "For a visit, at least? Please, Christy, come home for a month or two. We would come to you, but you know how your father's business schedule is. You would be able to recover better after some time in the city, and you could be seen by our physician, just to be sure. It would be for the best, darling."

I found, to my amazement, that the prospect was not so unappealing as it had been before my illness. I thought nostalgically of home – of my parents, of George and all my friends, of my bedroom and the magnolia tree outside my window – and suddenly a trip to Asheville seemed like a marvelous idea.

Turning around to sit on the stool David had thoughtfully placed nearby, I saw that Miss Alice was watching me. She must have seen the confusion on my face, for she smiled gently and nodded. As if it had been a signal, all of my indecision fled away. "I would love to come home for a visit, Mother," I said enthusiastically. "Dr. MacNeill will have to give me permission, but it should not take too many more days, I think, until I can travel."

By the stunned silence on the other end of the line, I knew that she had expected me to refuse and had prepared a sound argument to convince me otherwise. "Why, Christy, I...That is delightful news...Of course, you'll give us a call when your plans are fixed?"

I giggled at her discomposure. "I'll call the instant I know," I promised.

We spent another half-hour chatting about nothing of consequence – more for the purpose of hearing each other's voices. It was a tenuous bond at best, but somehow I felt as though the lonely distance between Cutter Gap and Asheville had shortened. And when we finally said goodbye, I did not feel the crushing sadness that I had anticipated. I would see my parents soon, after all – and they would no longer have to fret about my health. It was a relief on both sides.

I hung up the telephone, aware of how exhausting the entire process had been, and Miss Alice appeared at my side, propping me up steadily. "Come upstairs, child, and rest for a while before we sup."

I did not argue, allowing her to help me up the staircase to my room and under the quilts on my bed. I slept for over an hour and awoke feeling refreshed. Descending the stairs, I discovered that the parlor was deserted, as was the kitchen – everyone must have taken advantage of the mild weather; and as I slowly made my way to the front door, the sunshine beckoned to me so appealingly that I decided that I would join them outside.

Wrapping up in a quilt from the settee in case someone might have a mind to scold me for chancing to catch a chill, I walked out onto the porch and sat in one of the rockers. The air was clean and crisp, and I inhaled the smoky scent of pine with an almost ridiculous joy; the scents of carbolic acid and lye soap and other unmentionable smells that had pervaded the mission house during the epidemic still lingered with me, as though to remind me of the destruction that had lately hit this beautiful scene before my eyes. Most awful was the peculiar dead-mouse stench of the typhoid itself – I remembered how it had struck me when I first walked into the Spencer cabin to find Fairlight so desperately sick.

I shook my head to clear away those depressing thoughts. Now was not the time for me to dwell on death – I had so much to live for, to be grateful for. I hoped I would never forget that, for I knew that if I did, all the wonderful and fearful things I had learned here in the mountains would come to nothing.

The clip of hoofbeats suddenly intruded on my self-reproof, and I peeked over the fold of my quilt to see Dr. MacNeill briskly trotting toward me on Charlie. I smiled in welcome, and he grinned back and reined in his horse, lifting up a bulky flour sack in one hand to show me.

"Hullo, Christy – I was up on Pebble Mountain this morning and one of my patients paid me in snapbeans. I've not much taste for them myself, but I happen to know Alice likes snapbean soup. I thought I would bring them over."

I watched him dismount and bound up the steps to join me on the porch. "That's very thoughtful of you, Doctor," I said, gesturing hopefully at the chair next to me. "I'm sure we will enjoy them."

He set the sack down by the door and accepted my unsubtle invitation. "Well, they would've gone to waste otherwise. I see you're taking in the air – and without your doctor's permission."

"I feel perfectly fine! I didn't think my every movement would have to be approved..." I broke off as he started to laugh.

"I'm only teasing, Miss Huddleston. I'm pleased that you feel steady enough on your feet to venture out of doors; the fresh air will do you as much good as any medicine."

"Oh." I felt a little foolish for my outburst.

He settled himself more comfortably into the chair, scuffing his muddy boots against the pristine floorboards – Miss Ida would have fits when she saw them.

"It's a beautiful day, isn't it?" I said, more to fill the silence than anything else. The highlanders seemed as comfortable with gaps in conversation as Miss Alice, but I had not yet accustomed myself to it. "But when is it not? These mountains are always a sight to see – especially right at sunrise. I never used to wake up early back home, but here, the view from my room is enough to get me out of bed in the morning." I giggled weakly, knowing that I was rambling, but the Doctor didn't appear to hear me anyway. His attention was fixed out on the misty peaks I had been admiring.

The mountains gleamed blue and green and grey, streaked with deeper hues under the leafy covering of trees and grass: faint red, golden yellows, and dark violet, all mixing together with the bright summer sky and white-washed glow of the clouds to make a stunning portrait. I understood now why Miss Alice said that earth was closest to heaven in the Great Smokies – there was something ethereal in this natural splendor.

My eyes dropped away from the magnificent sight and fell instead on Charlie, who was rootling around lazily in the nearby field grass. Dr. MacNeill's black-leather medicine case was slung over the saddle horn. "Have you been out on your rounds, Doctor? I hope no one else is sick?"

The sound of my voice startled him, but he recovered his composure quickly. "Ah, yes and no – I've been in Low Gap and Cataleechie to check on a few patients, but all of them are recuperating nicely. No new cases of typhoid since you fell ill."

"That's good." I eyed him narrowly; the lines of exhaustion on his face had lessened. Perhaps he had managed to catch up on his sleep at last.

The Doctor smiled at me a bit self-consciously but said nothing.

"It never ceases to amaze me," I added softly, turning my sights back onto the ridge, "that beauty can be found in the most unexpected places. To think that this was all created just for us – and so perfectly! God must be very artistic."

He chuckled. "Do you think so?"

His laughter warmed me. "I do."

"It is remarkable, isn't it?" he mused, almost to himself. "I grew up in this place, saw these same sights every day for years and years...and yet it always seems new, somehow – and compelling." He paused and withdrew a pipe from his pocket. It was a new pipe. I remembered that his favorite, the one with the engraved silver band, had broken that night he called me back, its shattered stem lying forgotten atop my bed. "I tried to leave once, when I went to medical school. I had big dreams then, dreams of city life and success and fame." He pinched out a measure of tobacco and tamped it carefully into the bowl. "But I couldn't stay away from Cutter Gap. No matter how many times I left, I kept coming home."

"I know exactly what you mean. This place gets in your blood," I said.

He struck a match against the heel of his boot. "I guess it does." For a minute, we were both quiet, the only sound the puffing of the Doctor's breath as he tried to keep the tobacco lit. As soon as he had gotten it burning to his satisfaction, he leaned back and sighed.

Although we had certainly argued enough in the past, Dr. MacNeill and I had never actually talked, not about ourselves, at least, and I was desperate to know more about him. Since he seemed so unusually open today, I was loath to let the opportunity go to waste. "Have you ever regretted practicing here in the Cove?"

He drew thoughtfully on the pipe for a moment. "No, not really. There are some days, I suppose, when I wonder what might have happened if I'd stayed in Philadelphia or Baltimore, but I imagine it all turned out for the best."

"Of course it did. What would we do without you?"

"Everyone would manage. They managed before without a doctor, and they'd probably squeak by somehow without one again." He hesitated. "They would feel the loss of your school more. I always thought you would take this place by storm if you were given the chance."

"Liar."

I could see that I'd surprised him once more – he laughed aloud. "I beg your pardon, Miss Huddleston. I should have said I almost always thought you could. Better?"

I nodded with great dignity.

"In the beginning, I assumed you wouldn't last a month – just another pampered city girl, come to teach the poor, ignorant mountain people." His eyes softened as he watched me. "You proved me wrong, Christy."

Neil MacNeill was not a man to hand out compliments lightly, and his simple words of praise flattered and confused me. "I...thank you."

He lowered his eyes, perhaps a bit embarrassed – I received the strong impression that he hadn't meant to say so much. The thumb of his right hand absently rubbed the smooth curve of the pipe bowl, and one boot began tapping a nervous rhythm on the floor. He opened his mouth to say something, promptly snapped it shut, shifted in his seat, and glanced over at me a little helplessly.

"What is it?" I prodded.

"I..." He cleared his throat. "Have you – have you ever felt like something you were sure about suddenly...well, suddenly changed? I mean, that you thought you understood something, and then it just, just sort of came crashing down around you?" He half-snorted, half-groaned, and tugged impatiently on the curls at his nape. "I'm not making a whit of sense, am I?"

"You mean when you change your mind about something?" It was all I could do to speak calmly – was he hinting at what I thought he was? "Of course I understand. People make mistakes."

"No, more than that," he said slowly. "Like a conviction – say, something happens and you can't explain it away with logic or rationalization or solid facts, but you know that it was real and," he groped for the right word, "and affecting."

My heart was pounding. "Faith and human logic don't always go hand-in-hand. In fact, they hardly ever do, at least in my experience."

His eyes widened. "You heard me."

There was no point in dissembling. "Yes."

"Oh." Dr. MacNeill looked down fixedly at his cooling pipe, the fire quickly dying out in the brisk warm wind. "I...well, this makes things a bit more complicated."

My heart sank. Was he regretting what he said that night? Had I misunderstood him somehow?

He cleared his throat. "Uh...what exactly did you hear?"

"I heard you pray for my life."

"And that was all?"

I'll never know what possessed me to say what I did next. "Yes."

"Oh. I...I see." I couldn't tell whether he was relieved or not. We were both quiet for a long, awkward moment that was broken at last as he spoke.

"I told you once that I wasn't the one to save you, and I meant it." He held my eyes, completely serious. "You died, Christy. Honest to God, you died right there in front of me. Your heart had stopped beating, your pulse was gone, you were unresponsive...there was nothing I could do, nothing I could give you to bring you back. My medicines were useless; all my training, useless..." He cut himself off, caught up in the emotional grip of his memories.

For my part, I was horrified to realize how close I really had come to joining Fairlight at the river. No one, not the Doctor or Miss Alice or David, had told me that I had been in that critical a condition. I inched my chair closer to his, reaching out to lightly touch his forearm. "And so you prayed."

"I can't say what made me do it – it was a natural response, I guess. My parents were religious, and I was raised up with Bible stories and church. Once they were gone...well, I've told you about my reasons before, but that day, I...I was humbled by it, that for all my talk of trusting in science and my own abilities, I was unable to help you; and all at once I was praying. I had to. I didn't have any control over it...over anything." He grinned nervously. "I'm sorry. I'm making a muddle of this."

"No, you're not," I cried, unconsciously tightening my grasp on his arm. "Not at all."

"In any case, you're the one who can tell me what happened next," he said, "because before I knew it, you were awake and smiling up at me like nothing had happened at all – breathing normally again, fever gone, as if you'd never been sick..." He laughed shakily. "I'd never been so happy to see those big blue eyes of yours."

I felt heat rush up into my cheeks, but he didn't seem to realize what he'd said.

"I couldn't explain it away, Christy. I didn't want to explain it away. It was a miracle, plain and simple. You know as well as I that there are no medicines or surgical procedures to bring someone back from the dead."

"Have you..." I hesitated. "Did you —?"

"To be honest, Christy, I've been turning these things around in my mind for awhile. Something you said to me once..." He smiled at me. "Do you remember? It was that day in the schoolhouse."

I moaned and then laughed. "How could anything I said then possibly have left an impression? I made such a fool out of myself."

"Well, you weren't exactly articulate," he admitted, "but there was one thing you said: 'But what if it turns out to be the most important thing there is?' You have no idea how much that kept bothering me. I couldn't seem to let it go."

"Really? I was sure I'd lost that particular round to your cool reasoning, Doctor." I snorted. "I don't think I'd ever been so angry in my life."

He was quiet for a moment. "I ought to apologize for challenging you that way."

"You don't need to. It helped me realize that I didn't have any idea what I believed in. I was hanging on Miss Alice's coattails, just like you said. It gave me the opportunity to examine things for myself for the first time and come into my own faith – not my pastor's, or Miss Alice's, or Dr. Ferrand's – it was mine. Even then, it wasn't until after Fairlight's death that I came to understand who God was."

I could see that he was struggling with something. "Christy, how did you know that – that it was God?"

"Love," I said simply. "That's what He is."

He nodded, running an unsteady hand across his face. "After all these years...I laughed at you and Grantland, you know; and as much as I respect Alice, I thought she was foolish for spouting that nonsense about a loving God. A loving God wouldn't let children die from their parents' ignorance or men kill each other over a jug of whiskey. He wouldn't let people starve to death because they were too stubborn to accept help, or have them slog out filthy, miserable livings in this kind of poverty. What sort of a God would? There's so much pain, Christy, and I saw so much of it." He sighed. "But you were right. I felt it. As soon as I prayed, it was like...I can't describe it. But I knew. I knew. And I felt that love. I still don't understand it all, why things happen like they do – but I know that Alice's nonsense is true. He is there, and He is love."

My throat was thick with tears. "Have you been...have you talked with anyone?"

"With Alice, a few times." He grinned. "She's been after me for years, you know – but I couldn't believe because someone wanted me to. It's like you said: it had to be mine."

I didn't trust myself to speak – I was brimming with so much joy, and I was so very proud of him, proud that he had the courage to take a leap of faith and then admit it to others, to me. I knew my face must be alight with my admiration, but I didn't say a word because I knew it would embarrass him. Besides, he didn't need my approval – this was between God and Dr. MacNeill.

"Do you think everyone would be too shocked if I showed up for the service on Sunday?" he asked me. "I don't think I've set foot in a church meeting for a decade."

"There you are!" Miss Ida's stern voice trumpeted from the doorway. "I thought you'd gone and run out on us – inside with you now. You've been out too long, and the last thing I need is you sick again...oh, Doctor, I didn't see you. Are you staying for supper tonight?"

"No thank you." He hastily rose and picked up the burlap sack from the floor. "I brought some snapbeans over, and Miss Huddleston and I had a few things to discuss. I'm due over at the O'Teales' soon – Mary only has a bad cold, but with all the sickness we've had here in the Cove, Swannie wants me to take another look."

Miss Ida accepted the bag with curt gratitude and warned me that if I wasn't back in the parlor in five minutes, she would drag me inside herself. With that, she bid the Doctor good day and returned to the kitchen.

"I didn't mean to get you into trouble, Miss Huddleston," Dr. MacNeill said, helping me to my feet.

"That's just Miss Ida," I said.

"In any case, she's right. I've kept you out here too long."

I wrapped the quilt more tightly around me. "I'll go sit in front of the fireplace, and I'll be nice and toasty in no time." I lowered my gaze shyly. "Will you stop by here again soon?"

"I imagine I'll be back before the week is out." He buttoned up his jacket. "Maybe we can have another talk?"

I smiled. "Maybe."

There was a new lightness in his face, and a fresh energy seemed to quicken his step; he gathered up his pipe and clattered down the porch steps, waving one hand in farewell as he strode toward Charlie.

"Doctor MacNeill!" I called after him.

"Yes, Miss Huddleston?"

"I'm glad you prayed."

He was silent for a moment, but then, slowly, a warm smile curled the edges of his mouth. "So am I."

A/N: Thanks for all your kind comments and your input on Doc's character -- I always thought he was far more interesting than David. ; )

Christyfiction: I recently joined up on the List and registered at the message board; it's good to know that there are other Christy-enthusiasts out there. Do you happen to know if they have archives or something for past discussions? The site didn't seem to have any, although I know they just recently changed servers. I'd love to find the beginnings of those fanfics.

Anyway, lots of chatter in this chapter -- it ran a bit long, sorry. The fact that Christy led the Doctor back to his faith was an aspect of the book that I always loved. Of course, Ms. Marshall doesn't really tell us what happened next, but I can't imagine that Neil could just ignore a life-changing experience like that and go about business as usual, can you?