CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

IN THE PAST I had often wondered what made the mountain people stay here when there were nearby towns and cities where they could find jobs, clean homes, and proper care facilities for their children. Eventually I had discovered the allure of the Smokies, but even now I needed reminding once and a while that beauty could be found anywhere where God was present – and that blessings, however uncertain at first, came in all sorts of guises.

One sunny July afternoon, Neil and I were by the river, lazing in the grass and picking off the remains of a picnic lunch Mrs. Iverson had been gracious enough to pack for us. It was a lovely day, but I wasn't enjoying the simple pleasures as much as I generally did. It had been a very difficult week for all of us: Granny Barclay, bless her heart, had finally passed on, slipping away peacefully in her sleep.

Despite our relief that she would no longer be suffering from the heart troubles that had plagued her for the last year, the prevailing mood in the Cove was one of quiet grief. Neil had told me once that now that the elders were all dying, their knowledge and histories were vanishing along with them. As old and feeble as they had become, they were valued members of the community, treasured for their connection to the past; the past was something the highlanders kept close.

Miss Alice and I had 'dolled' Granny up before her funeral; as I had combed the woman's silver hair back into a bun, I was reminded forcibly of Opal's baby. I remembered how earnestly Opal had thanked me for giving her little girl a ribbon, and how her gratitude had crushed me. How awful it was to watch this kind of grieving, the grieving done in the home. The wild lamentations and speeches over the grave weren't half as heartbreaking as the silent pain of family as they readied the body and said their private goodbyes.

Granny had left without any regrets, Reverend Iverson told me. She had been sick for so long that it was a blessing for her to leave her tired body and join the husband and children who had gone before her.

I turned in the grass, letting the sun warm my back, and looked over at Neil where he lay stretched out a proper distance from me. He looked so relaxed and comfortable that it was difficult to interrupt.

As if he felt the weight of my gaze, he smiled, eyes still closed, and said, "What's on your mind?"

I was a little put out. "How did you know that I wanted to talk?"

"When you have something you really want to talk about, you don't talk at all." He grinned and opened his eyes. "What have you been dwelling on, Christy?"

"Death." Until the word slipped past my lips, I hadn't even realized it myself.

"That's understandable. You've seen quite a lot of it this year." He frowned, obviously remembering how close I had come to dying myself.

Completely without warning, I felt a wave of frustration welling up. "That's exactly it!" I burst out. "I've seen too much. Neil, how can you stand it? How can you bear watching people you love die like that? Like Granny this week, or Opal's baby, or Fairlight! I can't understand how you do this year after year."

He rolled onto his side and held out his hand. "Come here."

I scooted over to him, tucking myself under the heavy anchor of his arm; he squeezed me tight and then loosened his grip, letting me rest in the crook of his shoulder. "To be honest, I don't understand it either. Before you came here I was a different man." He paused, trying to find the words. "I don't know quite how to say this, Christy. I had tried all my life to do something useful for my people; I felt the weight of responsibility for my neighbors and friends since I was the one to have the knowledge and training to help." He shrugged. "I suppose you could say I had a bit of a God-complex – when I succeeded in saving a patient, the credit went to me. But when I lost a patient...well, the blame fell on me too.

"Now I know how mistaken I was, but then...you can imagine how I felt."

I nodded, my throat tight. I didn't like to think about Neil being lonely and full of self-hatred.

"Death is a part of life in these mountains," he said, after a long silence. "I grew up knowing that life and death were inextricably linked; you couldn't have one without the other."

"I didn't know," I admitted. "I knew that people died – my father's parents both died when I was young – but for me death was so...sanitized. My grandfather was laid out for the funeral, and I remember seeing his face, but it didn't trouble me because it looked like he was just asleep. I didn't think about what would happen to his body when it was buried, or what had happened to him when he actually died. I didn't understand what I looked like – I didn't realize how ugly death could be." I blinked back tears.

"It isn't pretty," Neil agreed, leaning back to gaze up at the clouds, "but it's necessary. After...after Margaret...died, Alice told me that life was meaningless without death, because to die meant that temporary life was over at last and eternal life would begin. I didn't think much of it then. It still isn't easy to lose someone, but I can see a purpose in it now."

I pressed my cheek against his chest. "Thank you."

I felt him smile. "You're very welcome."

THE VERY NEXT morning, Miss Alice was greeted at the door by Will Beck, whose mood was fluctuating wildly between joy and terror. "Ruby Mae's a-havin' the baby!" he shouted the instant she stepped out onto the porch.

Opal and I heard the commotion from the kitchen, where she was teaching me to make honeyed cornbread. Wiping my hands on my apron, I peeked out into the hall to see Will wringing his hat and bouncing on his heels while Miss Alice went to fetch her bag. "Is Ruby Mae feeling all right?" I asked, knowing that the baby wasn't due for another three weeks.

"Feisty as a polecat," he told me, attempting to grin but failing as worry wrinkled his brow. "She's been hurtin' all night. Says she'll have the baby soon, so she tole me to come git Miz Alice an' you."

"Me?"

"Not Miz Christy," Opal said firmly, coming out of the kitchen to shake her finger at Will. "Birthin'-room is no place fer an unwed gal. Miz Alice'll do jest fine by Ruby Mae, Will – don't you fret."

An argument from Opal McHone was a rare thing. "Opal, I can help; I've cared for babies."

"Reckon you ain't never seen one come out afore though," she said dryly. "It's not yer place, Christy. Let Miz Alice do her work."

Miss Alice's footsteps padded lightly down the stairs as she returned with her supplies and a pile of thick blankets. Will, after looking apologetically at Opal, came up to her directly. "Miz Alice, kin Miz Christy come with us? Ruby Mae asked fer her; it would make her feel better ter have her thar with her."

Miss Alice studied me for a moment before nodding. "If Miss Huddleston is willing to go, of course she can come."

Will's expression was one of pure relief, but Opal sighed. "Miz Alice, you know folks won't like it."

"Whether they like it or not is not my problem, nor is it Miss Huddleston's. If Ruby Mae wants Christy there with her, then she'll come."

We left as soon as the horses were ready; I clung close to Buttons's saddle to keep my balance, since Miss Alice had set us off at a faster pace than I was accustomed to. From the urgency in her manner, I suspected that Ruby Mae was progressing quickly in her labor. Will ran alongside us, asking Miss Alice question after question with an anxiety that was palpable. Again I marveled at how young the Becks were – parents before they were even eighteen.

It didn't take long to reach the Becks' little cabin, which had been built on the ridge behind the mission house. A sudden chill ran down my spine as the sound of Ruby Mae sobbing filtered through the crooked window; with a look of fright, Will scrambled past us and darted into the house to his wife.

I looked to Miss Alice with wide eyes, but she seemed perfectly calm. "Will you bring in those blankets, Christy? We'll need to keep the baby warm."

I followed her into the cabin and took a step back when a blast of heat struck me. A fire was roaring in the grate, and I could see Ruby Mae buried under a pile of quilts, her face flushed and dripping with sweat. She was still crying as Will held her hand and smoothed back her limp copper hair helplessly; I stepped close to the bedside, but she didn't seem to be aware that she had company.

Miss Alice was all business, throwing open the little window and tossing a pail of water over the fire.

"What'd ye do that fer?" Will demanded. "Ma says laborin' gals need the heat..."

"I think Ruby Mae would be more comfortable in a cooler room; we have blankets for the baby to ensure that it's kept warm. For the delivery, though, there doesn't need to be an extra heat; that will only put more stress on her body."

Miz Alice came over to sit on the edge of the cornhusk mattress, across from Will. "Ruby Mae," she said clearly, her tone light and soothing, "may I see how far along your baby is? I think you don't have much longer to go, from what Will tells me."

Ruby Mae finally reacted when Miss Alice began peeling away the layers of sweat-soaked quilts. "I'm gonna die," she howled, grasping handfuls of her nightshirt, which I noticed with some discomfort was saturated with a light brown liquid. "The baby's gonna git stopped up inside me, and I'm gonna die!"

"Ruby Mae Beck, that is no way to talk. Now you need to have some faith and be brave for your husband and your child. Do you understand?"

The tears were still rolling down her cheeks, but she nodded. "Yes'm."

Ruby Mae's labor was long and difficult, but Miss Alice assured both Will and I that it was normal for a new mother. I tried to stay out of the way, wiping Ruby Mae's face with cold water and holding her hand when the contractions started, but I could see why Will felt so helpless. It hurt to watch her in such pain, knowing that there was nothing we could do to stop it.

For all my bravado to Opal, it was an awkward experience for me too; my mother would die of shock at the thought of me attending a birth. I hadn't been exactly sure how childbirth took place either, cursed as I was with the ignorance of a city girl – but that afternoon cleared me of all my misconceptions. It was an awful thing to watch, and as much as I loved children, I wondered whether I could be courageous enough to go through this in order to have them.

Of course, Miss Alice's mantra that beauty could be found in every situation was to prove true once again.

After six endless hours of labor, Ruby Mae finally produced a red-faced, squirming little girl that came out screaming as loudly as her mother. All the lines of pain and stress on Ruby Mae's face evaporated the instant she saw the baby in Miss Alice's arms – the look of unconditional love she wore was one of the most poignant things I had ever seen in my life.

Will was brought in from his outdoor vigil as soon as the baby was swaddled, and he marveled at the tiny fingers and toes of his daughter; I saw him surreptitiously wipe away the tears, and I smiled to myself. Mountain men and their fear of open emotion...

The first order of business was a quick bath in heated water and some lessons for Ruby Mae about nursing. I had expected to be embarrassed by the latter, but there was something so intimate and special about the way Ruby Mae cradled her baby to her breast that I had no reason to be uncomfortable. It was natural, and it was beautiful.

Miss Alice and I cleaned up to give the new parents some time to bond with each other and the baby but Ruby Mae, tired and exhilarated, waved me over to admire her girl. "Ain't she the purtiest thing, Miz Christy? Lookit her little nose and those ears – an' I bet she'll have Will's eyes too."

"She's gorgeous. Have you decided on a name yet?"

"Her front name is Esther. I like that story from the Good Book real well, so I thought it would be a fine name for the baby if it were a girl. Her second name is Jean, fer Will's granny."

"Esther Jean," Miss Alice repeated. "A proud and lovely name."

Ruby Mae beamed with pleasure and dropped a light kiss on the baby's wrinkled forehead.

I had just finished heating up some stew when I heard hooves clipping down the pathway to the cabin. I opened the door to find Neil walking up the porch stairs; he smiled at me before I ushered him into the room.

"I hear congratulations are in order," he said cheerfully, walking over to the roughly-hewn crib by the bed. "You have a bonny daughter, Will."

I watched him as he tenderly held the little girl after the examination, singing softly to calm her. Soft awe crept into my heart as I saw how he cradled her, as though were a rare treasure. Neil loved children -- I had seen how well he interacted with them -- but somehow the sight of him holding that tiny new life was especially precious to me. He stayed awhile longer, consulting with Miss Alice about the delivery and any possible complications – she decided to stay the night in case Ruby Mae should need any medical attention. Neil assured me that it was just a precaution since this was her first child.

"And you – you're dead on your feet, Christy. Let me take you home."

I agreed, but only because I felt dead on my feet. The stress of the labor and the wild ride to the Becks' cabin had left me disheveled and exhausted. He didn't look particularly fresh either – I wondered whether he'd been traveling the back-trails earlier in the day.

After kissing Ruby Mae and Esther goodnight, I clambered up onto Buttons and set out. It was a good thing my horse knew the path so well, because I could hardly keep my eyes open long enough to steer her in the right direction.

I heard Neil chuckle, and then his hands were around my hips, pulling me off Buttons and onto Charlie's back. I linked my arms around his waist to keep from falling off. "Ruby Mae did well today," I mumbled, half-asleep. "I think she and Esther will be okay, don't you?"

"Hmm," he agreed, his mind clearly elsewhere.

I sighed and nestled my cheek against the curve of his back, closing my eyes. It had been a long day, and I itched to free myself from the uncomfortably tight lacings of my skirt. I let my thoughts wander – I had a good deal to do tomorrow: we were due for another reading session with the ladies, and I had planned in another visit to the O'Teales....

Neil abruptly reined Charlie in. I jolted forward, bumping my nose against his shoulder – that woke me up. I whimpered and felt the smarting appendage carefully, relieved that I hadn't broken it. "Neil? Why did we stop? Is something wrong with Charlie?" I pinched the bridge of my nose to stop the stinging and then lowered my hand.

He continued to stare straight ahead. Charlie pawed the ground uncertainly, and I was about to poke Neil impatiently in the back when he twisted around in the saddle to look at me hopefully. "Christy, will you marry me?"

It was the most unromantic proposal ever tendered. We were both sweaty, filthy, hot, and tired; our clothes were rumpled and stained; he stunk of ether, and I didn't even want to know what I smelled like.

He tugged at the hair at his nape. "Uh....well, what do you say?"

"What do I say?" I gasped, recovering my voice. "What am I supposed to say? Neil, look at us!"

He cast a quizzical look down at his shirt and over at me and then shrugged.

I screwed my eyes shut and sighed. "What am I supposed to tell our children when they want to know how you asked me to marry you? That we spent an idyllic evening attending the birth of the daughter of one of my students and then you proposed to me on a horse!?"

"Children?" His face lit up. "Does that mean 'yes?'"

I glared at him, disgruntled, until the ridiculousness of it all struck me. Here I was, dirty and sleepy, my hair hanging in damp strands all down my neck and face. And Neil – his tie was gone, his collar sticking up in the back, his wild hair nearly standing on end. I snorted, buried my face against his jacket, and then started laughing like a madwoman.

"Oh, Neil," I choked out, hardly able to catch my breath. "I love you."

A/N: Woo! It finally happened! Yeah, not sentimental at all, sorry. Neil IS a hillbilly man at heart, after all. ;)

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