CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

MY DEAR GEORGE,

I received your letter of June sixth in today's post – the mail has not been coming through regularly as the melting snow in the mountains has been making the high trails slick and impassible in parts. Still, I daresay Mr. Pentland was proud to be able to present us with the post at last, and your letter was well worth the wait.

You ask how everything is here in Cutter Gap; have you forgotten already that asking that sort of question will lead to a hundred more answers than you want to read? Never mind it – I like to torture you with news.

The mission house has been repaired completely – the men did a job well done, the staircase is new as well, since Miss Alice feared that the support beams could have been compromised by the fire. The new rooms look very well indeed; Mrs. Iverson was kind enough to have some of her own furnishings brought in to replace all that was lost. We were blessed to have escaped with so few of our things ruined – what is gone can be replaced easily. Please do thank Daddy again for sending those books.

In other news, Mrs. McHone and I had our inaugural ladies' reading class last week. It was held over in Miss Alice's cabin – everyone loves how homey and comfortable her cabin is. I thought the turnout was very good: five ladies, in addition to Mrs. McHone and myself. The women are all at varying levels of education; some I believe have never held a book, let alone read one, while Elizabeth Holcombe and Sadie Teague already have the alphabet learned in whole. All of them, however, are willing to be taught, and they seem excited for the opportunity. Mrs. McHone was pleased to be able to share her knowledge, and I think that made me happiest. She has become such a dear friend to me.

School has been dismissed for the summer working spell, but oddly enough, I find myself even busier than before. There is never a dull moment here – just an hour ago, Burl Allen came up to the house with a fishing hook through his hand. Miss Alice was able to remove it without much trouble, but I hope he will a little more careful next time. I seem to recall a time when you ended up on the wrong side of a hook.

But tell me, George, how you have been. Mother said you joined a new league, but she was frustratingly short on particulars. When will you play? Will you travel with the team at all? Let me know when you play your first game. Out of all the things in Asheville – apart from you, of course – I think I miss watching those baseball games the most!

Fortunately for you, I have to be at the O'Teales in a half-hour, so I bid you goodbye for now. Write soon, and give my love to our parents.

Your sister,

Christy

– Since you asked so slyly in your letter, I'll have you know that Dr. M and I are doing perfectly well, thank you very much. – C.H.


BIG SPOON CREEK was swollen with mountain runoff, and Neil had assured me that such conditions were ideal for catching trout. I hoped he was right, since there was no other reason I was willing to slog through the toe-numbing water only to stand there for an hour holding a pole like a dimwit – and on my first free afternoon in a week!

Oh, who was I fooling? As long as Neil was there, I would have gone anywhere. I drew the line at actually fishing, though; instead I sat on the bank, skirts hitched up to my knees and my feet dangling in the river. It was fairly unladylike, but I suspected Neil didn't mind, if his admiring glances were any indication.

It had been nearly a fortnight since we'd been able to spend several consecutive hours in each other's company. My usual chores, lesson plans, house calls, and the women's reading class were taking up the majority of my time. Not that I cared, of course – I enjoyed being busy. Still, it had been too long since I had had Neil to myself.

I watched as he moved further out into the river, hoping for a larger catch. He had already collected more than enough for lunch, but he was determined to keep at it until he caught something better. I didn't mind waiting, since Neil fishing was endlessly amusing. The expressions he made were especially fun. He scowled when a fish slipped by the hook; his brow would wrinkle in concentration before he cast out, and when he caught one, boyish triumph glowed on his face. My favorite, however, was the rare occasion that the fish managed to wriggle away before he could reel in. A delightfully sour look would overtake him, and he would open his mouth before remembering at the last moment that I was sitting a few yards away, and then he would sheepishly swallow back a curse.

He tried, he really did.

I tucked my knees up against my chest, wiggling my toes to make sure all ten of them were present and accounted for. It amazed me that the mountain people could be in the water so long without feeling the cold.

Neil was still walking upriver, searching for precisely the right spot; I was struck again by how lithe and graceful he was for such a large man.

As if God had heard my inner monologue and decided to play a practical joke, Neil chose that exact moment to take a step backwards and slip, disappearing under the water with a mighty splash. He flailed back to the surface before I had a chance to become alarmed, sputtering as he staggered to his feet. He stared at me with wide eyes, cheeks flushed pink, hair dripping pathetically over his face. I took one look at him and burst into laughter.

I shouldn't have laughed, I know, but his face was too much. I bent double, howling like a crazy woman. His face was dark red by now, clashing outrageously with his hair, but I couldn't seem to stop giggling. He shifted awkwardly, seemingly torn between embarrassment and indignation, but he started back toward the shore with slow, deliberate movements. By the time he was close enough that I spotted the glint in his eye, it was too late.

He swept his arm out, sending a spray of icy water directly on top of me. I shrieked, momentarily stunned, and in my moment of weakness, he drenched me again, laughing so hard his shoulders were shaking.

Recovering my spirit, I tried to splash him back, but the length of his arms guaranteed that I was going to end up as wet as he was. Eventually I cried surrender, and we collapsed side-by-side on the bank, soaked through, out of breath, and giggling like children.

"I can't believe you did that," I gasped out. "I thought you were a gentleman, Neil MacNeill."

"You started it."

"So I did. Forgive me?" Smirking, I rolled over and kissed him in a gesture of reconciliation that quickly developed into something vastly more interesting.

I had been kissed before, by David and by a girlhood beau or two, but they had been chaste and relatively unaffecting kisses – they were for curiosity's sake, to express childish affection and the stirrings of hopeful infatuation. I had enjoyed them, but the physical contact had never been backed by genuine and powerful emotion. The passion had not been there.

But now....now my head whirled with it. He kissed me softly at first, careful and tender, his mouth warm and gently insistent. I allowed myself to be drawn into the sweetness of it before moving further into his embrace, wrapping my arms about his waist; I pulled back a little, looking curiously up at him, anxious for his reaction.

His eyes lit with warmth as he watched me, still slightly flushed but smiling. I burrowed back in his arms, and I felt his fingers at my back, pulling me closer to him. I rested against him for a brief moment, but I became restless and reached up to draw his head down. This time I kissed him, my sudden shyness gone; I touched his cheek, his hair, the pulse that leapt just under his jaw. He held me with exquisite tenderness, and I cradled my face into the hollow of his shoulder.

God, I loved this man.

THE SECOND OFFICIAL meeting of the ladies' reading group commenced that next Tuesday, once again at Miss Alice's; and although Sadie Teague was not able join us, I felt that thus far the gathering had been a success.

We were seated around the fireplace, just beside the large window overlooking the ridge. Some women had brought along their sewing and were mending while we talked. For my part, I was still attempting to knit, and although my work looked more like a misshapen lump than stockings, it was soothing to have something to keep my hands occupied.

Opal and I took turns reading from the Bible, and once in a while, I would write an especially poignant passage on the classroom slate that had been brought in. The ladies seemed to make the connections between the letters and the sounds with astounding rapidity, and most of them had memorized the alphabet after our first meeting. It seemed that the children weren't the only quick learners.

The meetings were comfortable, not awkward in the least. I had been concerned that the women might think it uppity of me to be instructing people much older and more experienced than I, but they took the difference in our relative ages gracefully, without any apparent embarrassment.

Since it was a warm afternoon, I opened the window to let in the breeze. I loved summer in Cutter Gap – everything was bright and vivid and alive. It made the miserable winter worth it, just to see the beauty of the mountains now.

Opal had been reading steadily out of Corinthians, but her mild voice stuttered to a halt. "Miz Christy?" Her finger hovered carefully on the page; I bent to see what word she was gesturing to.

"Oh – cymbal," I said. "A cymbal is a piece of percussion...a musical instrument we use in the city." I motioned with my hands, trying to illustrate the foreign concept. "They're brass plates about this wide, and a person presses them together to make a sound." I could see that my explanation hadn't been very clear, so I used a poorly-drawn example on the slate instead. "See, you smash these together, and it makes a loud crashing noise."

"Like a drum?" Liz Ann asked.

"In a way – they're often played along with drums."

"Cain't 'magine that would make fer very purty music."

"It isn't too nice by itself, but cymbals are generally played along with other instruments."

"Seems to have other uses too," Elizabeth mused, peering down at the slate. "Reckon John's head'd fit 'tween those two bits thar? I could box his ears from both sides if I had one o' these."

There was laughter from all the ladies at that.

"Opal, why don't you read on?" I asked, after we had caught our breath.

"Shore thing."

I listened to Opal with a combination of pleasure and pride. The opportunity had been a good one; I wanted her to feel useful and needed, considering all that she had struggled through this year.

Isaak's attitude seemed better of late – Bird's-Eye's disappearance and the mission fire had sapped him of his desire to fight. I doubted that he had recovered wholly or that his resentment was any less fierce, but he had done well in school, and Opal seemed encouraged by his progress.

Still, I believed my friend was troubled. Though she was grieving for Tom, it couldn't have been easy for her to watch her former sweetheart suffer. She felt as though she were to blame for not being able to love him the way he had once loved her, that her choice to take Tom over him had led to his fall from grace. Perhaps Opal could have saved him from himself – we would never know – but it was fruitless to wonder how life would have changed.

As if she felt my eyes on her, Opal glanced up and smiled, a smile that was somehow both weary and content. I looked over at the circle of cheerful faces, marveling again how people so full of sorrow could find something to laugh about, to celebrate.

In these mountains, there was plenty of tragedy, tragedy that had sent Neil spiraling into hopelessness, frustrated David, and had nearly had me running back home. It was a harsh and unforgiving land and its people could be equally hard, but this – this was the reason I stayed. The happiness, when it was there, was so much sweeter. As Miss Alice had once said, all I had to do was hold on to joy.

A/N: Yep, we're starting to wind down. I hope you enjoyed the little bit of Christy/Neil fluff -- they haven't had much "alone time" so far. Gilari, the wedding will be coming up fairly soon. Neil has to get around to proposing first; knowing him, it's bound to be done awkwardly, so brace yourselves. ;) Oh, and I don't have any intentions of a sequel either.

My endless thanks to all of you who have faithfully read and reviewed this story! You guys are amazing!