River Deep, Mountain High

Standard disclaimers apply to this piece of Christy fan fiction.

This story continues where the TV series left off. Any similarities to other works of Christy fan fiction are purely coincidental and unintentional.

Chapter 27

The phone call could not have come at a more appropriate time. A few days after Christy's disastrous confrontation with David, she received a call from Asheville. It was her mother, Julie Huddleston, asking when she could expect Christy to return home for a visit for the Christmas holiday. She remembered previously telling her mother that she might come to Asheville for Christmas, but with David behaving horribly towards her, Christy felt that a visit with her family was just what she needed to get away from her troubles in Cutter Gap for a while.

Although she hated the idea of leaving the Cove after all the work she had put into the Christmas pageant with the children, Christy could not bear being at the Mission with the way David was treating her. Even with Cecile for companionship, Christy was deeply distraught by her crumbling relationship with David. The comforts of home seemed like a perfect escape, and she hoped that the time away would give David time to reflect on the matter so he might be more receptive to working things out when she returned after the holidays. With Cecile, Ruby Mae, and John Spencer agreeing to take over running the Christmas pageant, Christy's mind was made up. She was going to Asheville.

The week before Christmas, Jeb Spencer volunteered to take Christy to the train station in El Pano. With his wagon, he was able to easily transport the teacher and her luggage over the frozen terrain. The day of her departure from Cutter Gap could not have too soon, Christy thought. Miss Alice was gone for weeks at a time, having taken on more of the responsibilities of running Doctor Ferrand's many missions in the Appalachians. Christy missed their talks; she missed turning to her dear friend for advice. David spent many hours keeping to himself or working on the seemingly endless list of chores and repairs that always needed doing at the Mission and the schoolhouse. Combined with her new duties, Miss Alice was unaware of the strained relations between the teacher and reverend.

Christy boarded Old Bobcombe with an odd feeling washing over her. With the exception of the short trip with Miss Alice to Freedom, Kentucky, it was the only other time she had been on a train since the very same one brought her to Cutter Gap over two years ago. It was the first time she'd left the Cove, she realized. While Christy wondered what Asheville would be like, what changes had progress brought to the city where she had grown up and once called home, she sighed knowing how much she would miss the place that had become her new home.

An intense pang of sadness gripped her as the train began to make its slow departure from the platform at the El Pano station. As the train gained momentum, Christy gazed out the window at the Great Smokey Mountains in the distance, watching their blue-gray misty peaks flash by at increasing speed and grow further and further away.

In those mountains, Christy had learned strength and self-reliance. There she had learned to overcome challenges that she never dreamed she could. It exposed her to a world of extreme poverty and struggle, courage and fierce loyalty, true friendship and love. Her faith was tested on several occasions, but with each test, it only grew stronger. Christy realized that she was not the same girl who first stepped on that train. She was now a woman, filled with a deeper knowledge of the world outside the protection of her sheltered city upbringing.

Christy's thoughts continued to focus on the mountains and how dramatically her life had changed since she first arrived in Cutter Gap. All the while, the chugging train increased the miles between her and the place and people she had grown to love.

***

Christy's parents were both present to meet her upon her arrival at the train depot in Asheville. Her sorrow at leaving the Cove temporarily dissipated at the happy reunion with her father and mother. She was thrilled to see her father doing so well after his sudden stroke the previous year. With continued physical therapy, like Doctor MacNeill suggested, William Huddleston was back to his old self. He looked as if the stroke had not even happened at all, and only a barely perceptible limp remained when he walked.

By early evening, Christy was back at her childhood home, transported courtesy of her father's new motorcar. As the house came into view, Christy could see the big magnolia tree that grew outside her bedroom window. It was bare now that winter had fully taken its hold. The house, a palace by Cutter Gap standards, was actually quite typical for Asheville and looked much like the others that lined the bustling street. Little had changed about the house since she had been gone, Christy found. Even her old room looked as though it had been kept in a vacuum or time capsule, objects only moved for the occasional cleaning and dusting. Yet, somehow, Christy felt like a stranger. The comfort and contentment she expected of being back in familiar surroundings had, sadly, failed to deliver fully on its promise.

Disappointments put aside, Christy enjoyed a lovely supper with her parents. The Huddlestons' housekeeper, Martha, had prepared and served all her favorite dishes upon her mother's instruction. During the meal, Christy was peppered with questions about life and the families in Cutter Gap. Likewise, her mother was quick to fill her in on the goings-on in Asheville. Talk of college graduations, engagements, marriages, and even a scandalous elopement poured from Julia Huddleston animatedly. Soon, though, Christy grew weary of listening to her mother's gossip about people who she knew and cared very little about. These might have been friends of hers at one time, but two years without a visit home, and irregular correspondence that eventually dwindled to nothing, meant that Christy lost all ties to her old social circles. The deeper friendships born and cultivated in Cutter Gap left Christy with no regrets.

Tiring of the trite conversation and weary from the long journey, Christy retired to the peaceful sanctuary of her room. Absorbed in her thoughts, Christy began to unpack her luggage. Reaching for her blue checkered dress, she saw the bright red fabric peeking out from among the clothing in her suitcase, and it caught her eye immediately, causing her to stop the automatic rhythm she'd developed. Christy pulled out the scarf, and her fingers traced the intricate pattern of the fine white embroidery. At once, her thoughts were consumed by Margaret. She felt the prick of tears sting at the back of her eyes when she remembered the woman. Margaret had once been as bright and vibrant as this scarf, Christy mused sadly. It seemed odd, all of the sudden, that she was gone.

Christy's thoughts then inevitably floated to Neil. She did not have a chance to really say goodbye to him because he had been spending many days toward the outskirts of the Cove trying to contain pockets of influenza outbreaks that had developed. The doctor needed to quarantine the isolated cases and prevent a more widespread epidemic from forming and reaching Cutter Gap.

Absently, she wondered what he was doing for Christmas. The conversation where Neil gave Christy the red scarf belonging to Margaret had provided her quite a bit of insight into the often guarded and elusive physician. He admitted to being lonely, and Christy's heart ached for him when she thought of him being alone for the holidays.

Startled out of her reverie by a light knock on her bedroom door, Christy haphazardly tucked the red scarf into her dresser drawer, out of sight. She attempted to eliminate any trace of sadness on her face and quickly composed herself.

"Come in," she said.

It was her mother. "Good evening, darling," Julia said, smiling at her daughter. "I thought I would help you unpack your things."

"I'm nearly finished, Mother," Christy responded. The stimulation at supper was a bit overwhelming, and Christy really hoped for this time alone to decompress.

"Well, then, how about we just talk," Julia said, sweeping into the room and closing the door behind her. "It's been a long time since we've talked, woman to woman."

Her mother gazed at Christy with her soft doe eyes and lifted brows. Julia Huddleston had not failed to notice her daughter's distraction since arriving home. Although Christy tried to explain it away as exhaustion from the trip, Julia was astute enough to realize that something had her daughter completely preoccupied. Christy's easy compliance when her mother tried to coax her into coming home to visit also signaled that perhaps not everything was as it seemed.

Christy instantly began to feel uncomfortable at her mother's presence, knowing intuitively the direction the conversation was likely to take. Christy had come to Asheville to escape, not to be reminded of her precarious friendship with David or her growing, but as yet undefined, relationship with Neil. She knew she was never capable of hiding what she was feeling, so Christy understood it was just a matter of time before her mother stepped into this highly sensitive territory.

"I suppose," Christy relented, realizing that had little choice or ability to argue when her mother had that look on her face. She smiled faintly at her mother while she continued what little unpacking remained. Julia glided across the room elegantly and sat on the edge of Christy's bed.

"How are the school children doing?" Julia asked pleasantly, trying to gently engage Christy into conversation with the hopes that her daughter eventually would open up to her.

"The children have made such wonderful progress this year," Christy said, filled with relief at the neutral topic. Suddenly, she was feeling more at ease. She could talk about the children for hours. Christy could not help but smile with pride at her children's accomplishments when she spoke. She quickly and spiritedly spouted off the many achievements of the children in her school: Little Burl's much-improved reading skills, Becky O'Teale's promising artwork, Creed Allen's uncanny ability to memorize Bible passages. She went on and on, finding something to say about nearly all of her students.

"They never cease to amaze me," Christy continued with heightened enthusiasm, her nervousness and worries vanished. "Rob Allen continues to write when his schedule at the mill permits, and he recently learned that one of his stories will be published in a special magazine to exhibit new writing talent. Zady Spencer had mastered algebra and geometry and is moving onto trigonometry. If she gets much further advanced, I'm afraid my own limitations will soon begin to show. You remember how I struggled with Calculus during my first semester in college!"

"And how is Miss Henderson doing?" Mrs. Huddleston inquired, her voice indicating concern. "I know you wrote us when her daughter Margaret passed away."

"Miss Alice is doing fine. Naturally, she gets melancholy sometimes, but she is truly happy that Margaret came to God in the end," Christy remarked. "She has absorbed herself in her mission work, and she is gone for weeks at a time. It seems she is taking on more of Doctor Ferrand's responsibilities, so she travels much more frequently to the other missions."

A lull in the conversation emerged, and Christy was quiet for several long moments. Inattentively, she began to unfold and refold the items she put in her dresser as the unspoken question loomed in the air around them. Finally, the words Christy dreaded hearing passed Julia's lips. "And what of the Reverend Grantland?" she asked pointedly. "I recall he was quite smitten with you during our last visit. Frankly, your father and I were surprised we had not heard from him to ask permission to marry you."

Christy felt her heart sink into the pit of her stomach, and her face tensed, her lips drawn together tightly in a straight line. Not realizing it, she began to hold her breath. She turned away from her mother.

Julia could see immediately that something was wrong. "Christy?" she asked, her brows furrowed in worry.

When her daughter did not answer, Julia rose from the bed and went to where Christy stood by the dresser. She approached cautiously and put her hand on Christy's arm, attempting to stop the pointless fidgeting and fussing over the items in her dresser. Christy finally looked up into her mother's eyes, laden with concern, and she gave up the fruitless charade, dropping her guard at last.

Julia led Christy to sit beside her on the bed, and the two finally started to talk candidly. Christy began to feel the weight lifting off her chest when she let down the wall she'd built and spoke openly and honestly with her mother. She had not told her mother about David's proposal before, though it was certainly no shock when she did at last. Nor was Julia especially surprised to learn that Christy refused the offer of marriage.

Christy recalled when her mother questioned her during her parents' visit to the Cove over Thanksgiving the previous year. Keeping one man dangling when you obviously have feelings for another, Julia had pointed out.

"And what about Doctor MacNeill?" Julia asked, bringing Christy back into the present. "Has your relationship with the doctor changed based on your decision not to marry David, or due his recent eligibility?" She eyed her daughter speculatively, wondering if the nature of the friendship between Christy and Neil was different now that Margaret passed away and the doctor was free to remarry.

"Mama, Neil is my friend," Christy declared defensively. "He's my best friend. The state of our relationship has not changed just because I declined David's proposal and Margaret is gone." Christy could see that her mother was not accepting her answer so easily, but she was in no mood to draw out her justification or get into an argument. She tightened her jaw in determination. "The subject is closed, Mother."

Not wanting to upset Christy further, Julia simply conceded, at least for the time being. "Alright darling, I won't press you on the matter any further." Instead Mrs. Huddleston decided to change the subject to a less weighty one, her tone and manner transforming just as quickly and easily. "Now, let's see about getting something picked out for the New Year's ball hosted by the head of your father's firm."

"Mother, I really don't think I want to go," Christy sighed. Parties and social events were not exactly her favorite topic of discussion either. She just wanted to be alone with her thoughts, but Julia would have none of it.

"Nonsense, Christy," she dismissed breezily. "James Laughton is one of your father's oldest business associates and dearest friends. It would be viewed as an insult if we did not attend."

Ignoring her daughter's protestations, Julia rose from the bed in a sweep of navy blue taffeta and began going through Christy's armoire looking for a suitable dress for the party.

"Alright," Christy reluctantly acquiesced, knowing it was beyond pointless to dispute her mother. Besides, she had neither the will nor the desire to go against her right now. More than anything, Christy wanted this time at home to be pleasant so she could get her mind off of the things she left unresolved back in Cutter Gap. Perhaps a busy social calendar would provide just the distraction that she needed, Christy recognized. If nothing else, the light, frivolous conversation would reduce the likelihood that the more weighty topics she wished to avoid would arise.

"Splendid! I know it will mean a lot to your father to have you join us," Julia Huddleston said triumphantly as she sifted through the garments that hung in the wardrobe.

After pulling Christy's nicer dresses out one by one and examining them, she shook her head in disappointment having decided that none of the garments would do for such an event. Most of her more formal dresses were over two years old and either badly out of style or no longer fit. No, Julia decided. Christy would need a new dress. And with the Reverend Grantland no longer in the picture, Julia schemed internally, perhaps this was her chance to reintroduce Christy to genteel Asheville society and possibly land her some interested local suitors.

The more Julia thought about the upcoming New Year's Ball, the more she looked forward to it with the hope that it might prove to be the tipping point which would change Christy's mind and make her want to stay in Asheville for good.

***

Chapter 28

After a wonderful Christmas with her parents, Christy found herself quickly absorbed into her mother's busy social calendar of teas, lunches, and shopping. She endured the tiresome itinerary of events primarily because she knew it was only for a short time and it made her mother happy. It did provide the needed distraction from her unsettled troubles in Cutter Gap, but Christy soon realized that she no longer seemed to fit into the world she left two years ago. She may have looked and dressed similarly to the other young ladies in Asheville, but the interests that occupied their thoughts and conversations were not the same as what Christy found to be important. These social gatherings were indeed diverting, but somewhat boring and silly to her as well. Still, Christy kept up appearances and attempted to be as gracious and pleasant as possible, though she secretly longed to be able to drop the façade and be her true self again.

With only a few days left before the Laughton's Ball, Julia Huddleston dragged Christy to nearly every dress shop in town. The Christmas parties now over and New Year's events rapidly approaching, many of the remaining gowns were severely picked over, and the most fashionable garments had already been snatched up. But Julia would not be deterred. With renewed determination, she scoured each boutique in Asheville, and she eventually found a dress that caught her fancy and was deemed suitable.

Even Christy had to admit that the gown was beautiful. It was a lovely grayish-blue satin frock with a hint of silver sheen woven into the silky fibers. It had a deep V-cut layer overtop a squared-off neckline, fluid elbow length sleeves gathered with a touch of lace, and a tiered skirt of multiple layers, each one cut to a different length and angle. It had gorgeous detail embroidered with silver thread at the edges. The dress fell slightly above the ankle, which would make dancing much less treacherous, Christy thought. It was quite modern with its more columnar skirt rather the more flared, A-line or trumpet silhouettes that had dominated the last decades. The Gibson Girl, with her bustles, bouffant hairstyles, outrageously puffed sleeves, and unnaturally corseted bodices was relinquishing her hold on fashion as more practical, fluid, and relaxed shapes were becoming then norm. Despite the progression of fashion, the Ragtime Era was slow at ushering in other kinds of social change in the still-rigid Asheville community, where strict Victorian notions of conduct and propriety held a firm grip on the populace.

New Year's Eve had arrived, and Christy was outfitted in her new gown, elbow-length white gloves, and dancing slippers in a complementary silver cover. Her hair was coiffed in a loose, low bun. It was intended to look almost casual and unfussy, but Christy knew just how long she had been forced to sit still while her mother and Martha assailed her with hot curling tongs, brush, and comb. They spent at least an hour and a half hovering around Christy while twirling, wrapping, and tucking the strands of her hair into the final style with dozens of hair pins to achieve the seemingly nonchalant look.

Having passed Julia Huddleston's rigorous inspection, Christy was judged ready to go to the Ball. The Huddlestons rode across town in their motorcar to the Laughton's lavish residence. Driving in the car was exhilarating in the chilly winter air, Christy thought. She wore a heavy hooded cloak edged with white fur to keep her warm, and there were also thick blankets spread across their laps to help stave off the cold. Christy had to admit that being dressed up in such fine, elegant clothes made her feel slightly more excited about the attending the party, even with the prospect of having to talk and dance with strange young men leaving her as anxious as ever.

Christy entered the ballroom on the arm of her father, with her mother on his other arm. She was happy and relieved to at least have her daddy escort her into the room rather than walking in alone. Once inside, Julia immediately began introducing her daughter to some of her friends and husband's associates who had eligible young sons in tow. Christy reluctantly went along with it and followed the rules of engagement, trying to be courteous and put on a good face.

As with her girl friends, she quickly learned that she had little in common with them. Most of the young men were finishing up college or law school and had experienced little of the world outside the big city. Christy's two years in Cutter Gap had given her a broader and more grown-up perspective. She was no longer the sheltered girl she had been. She knew what real hardship was like. She knew far more about life – and death –than other people her age.

After several long hours of meaningless dialog and stilted, passionless waltzes with young men who worked hard to behave like miniature versions of their fathers, Christy grew tired of the pretense and affected manners. Wanting a moment of quiet to herself, Christy left the ballroom and wandered down a long corridor away from the sound of music until she could no longer hear the incoherent murmuring of polite, but tedious, conversation. Finally, Christy felt that she could breathe.

Enveloped in a quiet calm, she turned a corner and walked into a room that appeared to be a study or library. Her gaze traveled around the room and her jaw dropped. Christy had never seen so many books in a private residence before. Absently, her thoughts were transported to Cutter Gap. She wondered how many years and how many donations it would take to build a library in the Cove with even a tiny fraction of the number of books contained within the walls of this single, massive room. Christy marveled as she scanned the shelves. The books went as high as the ceiling, those on the top shelves only accessible with one of three mobile ladders that leaned against the walls.

Meandering around the room, Christy could see that the books were organized into sections according to the Dewey Decimal System. Her fingers brushed the books dreamily as she walked and browsed. Section 500 – Science. Section 700 – Arts and Recreation. Section 800 – Literature.

Christy stopped suddenly when she came to the History section, number 900. Her eyes were instantly drawn to the gold embossed title of particular book on the European History shelf, A History of the Scottish Clans. Picking up the book, she scanned the index at the back, searching for names of the families in the Cove. Barclay…Cameron…Graham…

Christy's heart ached a little when she thought of Cutter Gap. It was New Year's Eve, and no doubt there would be a singing and great deal of jollification, as it was called there. Last year, she had helped organize the Christmas festivities, and David built a nativity scene outside the Mission. She wondered how the pageant turned out since she was not there to oversee it.

Yes, Christy was homesick. She missed her room in the Mission and waking up each morning to see the Great Smokies in all their glory. The magnolia tree outside her room here in Asheville paled tremendously in comparison. Christy longed to see Miss Alice, whose kind, reassuring presence always made her feel calm and secure, and she missed going traipsing with Fairlight and her reading lessons with Mary Allen. She even missed Ruby Mae's incessant chatter at the Mission. Being an only child, her parents' large home in Asheville began to feel as silent as a tomb. It never bothered her before she moved to Cutter Gap. It had been just the three of them – Christy, her mother, and her father – ever since her younger sister Amelia died when she was still a young girl. Now the cavernous spaces were almost suffocating.

Perhaps more than anyone, Christy confessed, she missed Neil. She missed the way he teased her sometimes, calling her Miss Huddleston, his eyes twinkling with delight. She missed their long talks and even their heated debates.

Christy sighed, turning her focus back on the book, and continued to scan the index of clan names. MacDonald…MacNeill…Morrison… Tracing the list on the page, her finger moved back to the entry on MacNeill. Page 275 was listed next to the name. Christy turned to the page on MacNeill and read. Neil MacNeill of Barra. It was Neil's ancestor, she realized with excitement. Christy started to read, but then stopped abruptly when she heard the sound of slightly irregular footsteps growing louder behind her. She fumbled but managed to quickly put the book back on the shelf before the long shadow turned the corner and crept into the library. Looking up, she saw her father.

"I wondered where you'd gone off to, Little Miss," William Huddleston said. He glanced around the room briefly and then smiled at Christy. "Seems you've always got your nose in the books. Even at parties." He winked at her mischievously, his own blue eyes sparkling with good humor.

Christy could not help but smile in return. "Daddy, I just needed some time to myself. If I had to listen to one more comment about the weather, or how ladies' waistlines are dropping and their hemlines are rising, I thought I might scream. It all seems so pointless."

"I suppose it's not the type of conversation you're used to back in Cutter Gap," William acknowledged.

"I'm sorry, Daddy," Christy apologized, fearing she might be perceived as putting on worldly airs. "I didn't mean to make it sound as if everyone is so shallow. It's just…" Her voice drifted off and her expression dropped.

"It's just you miss your life and your friends in Cutter Gap." Her father smiled reassuringly, indicating that he understood how she felt.

"Yes," Christy admitted, a little sadly.

"I know, Christy." William Huddleston nodded, his brow slightly furrowed in contemplation for a moment. "When do you expect to be going back?"

A bit surprised at his bluntness, Christy responded, "I had not thought that far ahead yet. School is in recess for several more weeks. I know Mother will be disappointed."

"Yes, I expect she will be a little disappointed, but she won't be surprised," he said. He stepped closer to his beloved daughter. "I know she doesn't let on, Christy, but over the past few days, your mother has come to realize that your home isn't here in Asheville anymore. I believe she is finally coming to terms with that fact."

Knowing her father was right, Christy nodded. No, her home was not in Asheville, Christy knew. It was in Cutter Gap. She loved her parents more than anything, and she would never stop wanting to see them or be with them. But as hard as she might have fought against it, the longing for the view from her room at the Mission had replaced that for the one of the big magnolia tree from her childhood room. It was the river that ran through the Cove and the mountain ranges rising out in the distance that had become the backdrop of her dreams.

Cutter Gap had a stronger calling, a more tangible hold on her that she could not explain, one that would not go away. It was the first place where Christy had made her own home, not a home that she was simply born into. That new home was filled with the thrill of discovery…of new places and friends, and more importantly, the discovery of herself. And even with the struggles, the people were unspoiled, courageous, and resilient. There was no falseness or pretense, only simply honesty. People spoke only when they had something meaningful to say, not just for the sake of filling a gap of silence in a conversation. Christy found that notion highly refreshing, especially after being surrounded by the hollow small talk in her mother's Asheville circles.

A sentimental smile spread across Christy's face as thoughts and images of Cutter Gap filled her with an intense joy. She reached her arms around her father and embraced him, grateful that he understood her love for the Cove and supported her decision to return there. "Thank you, Daddy." She squeezed him affectionately, and he reciprocated. "I love you so much!"

Pulling back slightly from her, William Huddleston marveled at how grown up his little girl was. But he knew that no matter how old she got or how far away she lived, Christy would always be his Little Miss. He quickly cast away any maudlin feelings and focused on how proud he was of his daughter and the choices she had made for her life.

"Would you like to come back to the party?" he asked. "It's nearly midnight, and there won't be many more dances left for the evening. I want to make sure I get one last waltz for the year with my Little Miss."

"Of course, Daddy. I'll save the last dance for you," Christy smiled at him lovingly. "You go on ahead. I'll be there in a few minutes, I promise."

William nodded and left Christy alone once more with nothing but thousands of books and her own thoughts. Blanketed in silence and solitude, Christy turned back to the tomes on the nearby shelf and picked up the book she had been reading previously. She became quickly engrossed in the section on Clan MacNeill of the Island of Barra – Neil's ancestors. Much of the section focused on Neil MacNeill, grandson of the thirty-ninth Chief of Clan MacNeill, who lived nearly two hundred years ago.

Born around 1720, Neil MacNeill had traveled to America in 1745 to visit with relatives who had emigrated and to start up a new business venture in North Carolina. When he finally returned to Scotland in the fall of 1746, he had been unaware of the bloody massacre by the English at Culloden Moor that signaled the end of the Second Jacobite Uprising and crushed any hope of restoring the Catholic Scottish monarch. Thousands of men were killed or imprisoned.

Failure of the Scots to reclaim the throne for Bonnie Prince Charlie from their English occupiers had led to the destruction of nearly everything the clans held dear – their culture and heritage, their societal structure, as well as their independence. The traditions the Highlanders fought for with their lives were suppressed by the English in an attempt to force the Scots to assimilate and squash any future rebellion. Even wearing a clan tartan was forbidden with the passing of the Disarming Act. In addition to attempts to destroy clan loyalties, the English did everything in their power to devastate their economy, including burning homesteads and grain, seizing clan monies and property, and running off cattle. The people were starving.

Courtesy of a legal loophole, Neil MacNeill learned that his portion of the family fortune could not be touched by the English Government because he was out of the country at the time of the rebellion. With that money, Neil purchased a ship and offered free transport to North Carolina to any of his countrymen who wished to emigrate. In 1747, four hundred and eighty Scottish men and women sailed on Neil MacNeill's ship, The Curlew, bound for America and a new life. They journeyed across the ocean to a strange and faraway land where they were free to honor and preserve their heritage and live as they chose. They could wear their clan tartans and speak their native Gaelic language. They were at last free.

Neil left Scotland on the second sailing of The Curlew where he met and fell in love with Flora Ridell. They were married when they arrived at port in Wilmington, North Carolina.

In total, eighteen hundred Scottish folk were brought to the New World through four sailings of Neil MacNeill's ship. Initially, they settled in established farming communities along the coast, but they struggled to fit in with their strange manner of dress and speech. In 1750, Neil led the people across hazardous terrain into the westernmost county of North Carolina, which later became Tennessee. Among rugged peaks and misty valleys split with tumbling mountain streams that closely resembled their beloved Scottish Highlands, the immigrants finally settled with the feeling that they had come home again.

Over the years, the American highlanders eventually adapted new ways while maintaining many of their ancient customs. Through their highland ballads and stories, they instilled in their children a love of their heritage, fierce loyalty, independent spirit, and even their stubbornness.

Christy's heat swelled with pride as she read about this gallant man and the sacrifices he made for his fellow countrymen. She could not help but think of Doctor MacNeill in the same light as his heroic predecessor, fighting for his people, but in a different way. The present day Neil MacNeill fought for the health and lives of the people of the Cove, bringing with him the skills of modern healing practices while respecting many of the old ways to which they still clung tightly. Though connected by no ties of blood or kin, Doctor MacNeill was bound by honor, duty, and love of his people. Christy suddenly felt closer to Neil somehow, knowing more about his ancestor. She wanted to talk to Neil about it when she returned to Cutter Gap and share with him what she learned.

Having finished reading the section of interest, Christy closed the leather-bound volume and carefully slid the book back into its place on the shelf. After a momentary pause, she left the library and walked down the long corridor toward the ballroom, this time eager to get back for a final turn on the dance floor with her dear daddy.

With no regrets, Christy would say goodbye to both 1914 and to Asheville. Like the Scotsmen guided by Neil MacNeill of Barra to what eventually became Cutter Gap, she too would be going home.

***

TO BE CONTINUED

Note: Some of the history contained in Chapter 28 on Neil MacNeill of Barra was paraphrased from the book Christy by Catherine Marshall.