Chapter 11 - Perhaps
Perched on her toes, Christy untacked the multicolored bunting from the wall and looped it around her arm. It had taken her a couple days to enter the schoolhouse and clean up the remnants of the graduation party and the last day of school. She just couldn't bring herself to do it.
The ceremony had gone by in a blink. Her fourth through eighth standard wrote and starred in a play based off of the graduates and performed it fabulously. Each of the graduates gave a speech about their education and shared their next steps, and then the whole school and their families celebrated with teacakes, pies, raspberry tea, and outdoor games.
Two full years of teaching under her belt. Two full years of gaining trust, grading papers, and gradually coming to love Cutter Gap. She loved them all like they were her own – Rob, John, Ruby Mae, Bessie, and yes, even Lundy. It would be hard to let go of them.
Her first class to truly graduate under her tutelage; it felt deeply symbolic to her. Her role as a teacher meant more than education, it meant mentoring, doctoring, and mothering. Every memory of the year felt so significant and special to her, and she didn't want to lose them.
She felt a swiftness about her, like she was stand-still in the middle of a river, life and breadth coursing through her and moving on without her. "Wait for me," was the silent cry of her heart.
And graduation inevitably marked a month-long hiatus in school. Her students were only students unless the land called for them, and the land came a-calling. After all, they worked the land just as much as their parents did. She needed the break too, if she were honest with herself. So many half-formulated ideas swirled around in her head, and there were too few hours in a day to accomplish all that she'd hoped for and dreamed.
"Finally cleaning up, huh?" David leaned against the door frame, the setting sun casting a long shadow down the pew aisle.
She moved a crate full of chalkboards to its proper cubby. "Someone told me I needed to tidy up before church tomorrow," she teased.
He grinned at her. "The decorations might be more distracting than Ault Allen's snoring, and I need all the help I can get."
"You're too hard on yourself. They love you, David."
Why was he staring at her like that? He broke the silence. "How are you feeling about the summer break?"
"I welcome the break. I feel like there's so much I can devote my time to. There's so many grown-ups that need proper education. I've been helping Fairlight learn to read, and it's been the best part of my week, but what if the whole cove knew how to read, from Least-un to Granny Barclay? Imagine the transformation that would happen!"
She knew her enthusiasm was carrying her away, but this was the first chance to tell somebody about the ideas that had been steaming inside like a pressure cooker. "I could also explore Big Mud Hole or go west past Doc MacNeill's cabin, especially with how long the daylight will last. And–and then there's the extra funding we received from Dr. Ferrand – I know Miss Alice and you haven't discussed how to use it quite yet, but I have several ideas. Not to mention, I could start the herb garden I've been dying to undertake since I read that book Miss Alice gave me–"
"Woah there," David crooned like he would to Old Theo, "It seems you've got a lot to do this summer. It sounds all well and good, but you just finished teaching two days ago."
"Of course I know that. But I can't sit still or take a furlough like Miss Alice suggested. I'm the restless type, I need to do something. And if God is speaking to me, I must do what He says."
"You misunderstand me. I was just making a statement. You always have some dream or other, it's hard to keep up sometimes. We're adrift on the sea of ideas. . ."
She felt her hackles raise and planted a hand on her hip. "What are you implying, David?"
He grit his teeth, his jaw flexing hard. "Have you given any attention to us?"
"Us?" She croaked. "What do you mean?"
He cleared his throat. "Fine, I'll just spell it out. You'd want me to do that anyway. Christy, I know I keep asking you to consider marrying me, and you've been shy and reticent like a proper Asheville girl would. And I came to realize that you might want to be courted like a proper Asheville girl, with letters and roses and the like. So I'm here to ask if you would let me court you this summer?"
I'm not a proper Asheville girl, she thought wryly. I've let you kiss me without any kind of promise like a proper Cutter Gap girl. And yet her heart thumped so hard in her chest she forgot how to breathe. She didn't know where to look – his face was bright and excited, and his hands trembled when he reached out to grab her hand.
"Say something, anything, Christy."
Why am I so hot and cold with him? When I'm away, I can parse through my attraction and say what I really want. But being held by him, his kisses and his enthusiasm, it warms and excites me.
"Why do you want to court me, David?" She was surprised at her own calm boldness.
He looked at her oddly. There was a spot of pink in each cheek. He shifted the weight on his feet. "You know why."
She crossed her arms. "I obviously don't. Why do you want to marry me?"
"I like who I am when I'm around you. I think you're smart, caring, compassionate, not to mention beautiful. You care about the cove and all their hard-headed ways. . ." He trailed off.
"I like those things about myself, sure, but that doesn't mean I want to marry me." She softly argued.
"Miss Alice always said that you're inclined to think of the poetry side of things, not the prose side. That's why I want to court you, Christy. Give me a chance."
"I can't be won over with letters, roses, and kisses, David. I want you to listen to me, encourage me, be a sounding board for all of my crazy, harebrained schemes and consider them like you would a peer."
"I am listening to you," David drew her in tightly against his chest, and kissed her so deeply her lips smashed on his teeth. He slowed down, her hair full of his hands and her heart racing as his lips lingered deeply and smoothly on her lips, like foam dissolving on the riverbed.
Is this what you want for me, God?
She looked at David again and saw him as she had when they first met many months ago: handsome, clean-cut, likable, and anxious to do the right thing. He was as uneasy now as he was when the O'Teale boys accused him of murdering Wilmer. Even in her own torment, compassion for him stirred within her. Perhaps his actions were all that were necessary. Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps.
"I need some time to think after our conversation. Would you mind if I had a few moments to myself to finish this?" She squeezed his hands, hoping it conveyed whatever he needed it to.
"I can do that. But I need an answer, Christy." He gently kissed her forehead, and in a few long strides was down the church steps and headed toward his bunkhouse.
As soon as he left, she turned over every proverbial rock he shared. . . He was like the boys back home in Asheville: quick to demonstrate feelings and slow to commit anything to words. He said courtship, but for some reason Christy doubted it would be more than stolen kisses and a couple picked flowers. She wanted more from him, she wanted to hear his deepest thoughts and most personal revelations about his walk with Jesus.
She swept her tongue across her lips. They tasted like persimmons just thinking about him and their tentative, titillating moment together. Heat spread across her face and pooled in her belly.
Save the graduation party, she'd hadn't seen the doctor in a couple weeks. He showed up an hour late and left an hour early. Not that she minded, he had a busier schedule than anyone she'd ever met. She actually admired that he came out to support the school (and her, she secretly knew). When the kids made a joke about John and Bessie getting married during the play, the doctor laughed so hard she felt it in her bones. She had slipped his pipe into his hand then, shyly, like she was passing him a forbidden note in school. The small, enigmatic smile he gave her kept her thoughts occupied.
She looked at the small burn scar on her wrist. It looked oddly like a heart. She kissed it.
If she were honest with herself, she might have feelings for two very different men.
A/N: I haven't forgotten this story. It feels hard to write for this book/tv show because there's only so much we can pull from. So I'm being creative and that can take some time. Also, if you reread the story, I've sprinkled a couple vignettes in, like chapters 8, 9 and 10, to help prompt the story forward/add character depth. Thanks for all the reviews.
