note: *screams delightedly into a pillow*

A Magical Ultimatum

Church was thankfully uneventful the next day. The 'Tatum Three' had headed over to the church more local to Jarvis's homestead, and Umphrey himself was in too much pain to be moved. After the service, David hovered like a zealous older brother, treating questions about the Tatums like particularly offensive gossip. Even so, Christy sought to leave as soon as was socially acceptable. On her way out, she saw Fairlight Spencer making her way toward Christy through the various knots of people.

Fairlight would immediately be able to tell she was agonizing over something. It was childish, but Christy quickened her pace to look like she needed to get back to the Mission, leaving her friend standing at the edge of the socializing crowd with a concerned look on her face.

oOoOoOo

Monday was easier. She was able to focus on the children rather than the growing pressure of knowing something. It really wasn't her place to do anything about Margaret's death, but praying about it hadn't alleviated the horrible feeling one bit. The best she could do was try not to think about it and hope Neil and Miss Alice were led to speak to each other soon.

The weather was so nice that Christy decided to bring the whole group into the nearby woods for a long-planned, much-delayed botany lesson. She made sure everyone brought their things, so they could dismiss from their study spot.

After school was over and she'd made sure they hadn't left anything behind, the afternoon sunshine and light breeze beckoned. She headed off in the opposite direction of the Mission. Something about the familiar yet not-quite-home pastoral setting sank into her bones, resonating the kind of peace she'd been seeking for days.

For the first time since the kiss, the wasps, and the explosion, Christy let herself think about the concerned way Neil had asked her one question.

Do you have any idea what you've done?

What if he was right about the Cove's view of that day? How would she handle the consequences, now that she wasn't in crisis mode?

Christy leaned up against a sturdy tree and thought about it, inviting the predictable swirl of anxiety. She didn't want to leave. In fact, her mother would probably marry her off within three months, if this was why she went home. Even if that didn't happen, she hated the idea of integrating back into a society that wasted things the people of Cutter Gap would have traded their most valuable materials to use.

She wanted to marry someday, had even been compelled to think about it, thanks to David's proposal. There were things a young woman should want and things she shouldn't, and Christy had always chosen to follow the virtuous, rule-following path. Did that make things more simple? A predictable life of service with a dedicated man of God versus an adventurous life of service with a passionate-

The memory of that rough kiss in the cabin washed over her, touching up a flash of embarrassment and excitement.

"Oh, never mind!" she said, pushing the thoughts away in a rush of fear. Nothing was proper about those feelings, and she need to think clearly if she was going to figure anything out.

It was dinner time when Christy got back, but when she walked inside, only David was there.

"Ruby Mae is having dinner with some friends, and Alice went to speak to MacNeill. It's just the two of us this evening."

Christy blinked in surprise. "What about Umphrey?"

"Asleep," David smiled. "He asked me to give him Sunday's sermon after lunch, and afterwards he argued with me about theology for a good hour and a half before he tired himself out. Alice told me to let him rest."

"Does he have an infection? He and the others walked a long ways to get here, I would have thought he'd be able to handle a-"

"Vigorous conversation?" David interrupted.

"Was it?" Christy settled into the chair he waved her into and held her plate steady as he gave her some bread, cheese, and salad greens.

"I get the feeling that Mr. Tatum up there has a habit of using up every single ounce of his energy on whatever he's interested in, and then sleeps it off until the next time," David said, sounding impressed. "I was worried too, but Dr. MacNeill showed up a few hours after lunch to check up on him. Asked about you, too."

There was a gentle push in his voice that Christy ignored.

"Well, that's good to hear. John Spencer says they're almost done fixing the stairs, but it's slower going because two of the men stayed in Low Gap asking around for a hired horse to get Umphrey back home."

"Good," David said, setting his water cup down with a thump. She raised her eyebrows and he elaborated, "I can see how he worked himself up to being convinced MacNeill killed his sister-in-law. Once that man's got something in his mind, he doesn't let go of it, and he doesn't shut up about it, either."

Christy focused on her plate. "Don't tell me…"

"If you're asking if he's still convinced you and MacNeill are a couple, the answer is yes. Doc didn't work all that hard to convince him, either," he said, pointing at her with a chunk of bread. "We need to get Tatum out of here before he causes trouble for you."

In a way, his prediction was encouraging. 'Before he causes trouble' meant the trouble didn't yet exist, and perhaps it wouldn't if Umphrey Tatum spent his remaining days at the Mission arguing about hellfire with David.

"Well, thank you for keeping him busy telling you those things, instead of anyone else," Christy said, smiling over to him.

David's sound of annoyance had the usual tinge of affection to it, and eventually he stopped sorting through the greens on his plate. "If it keeps you from being miserable for the rest of your life, it's worth it."

"David," she whispered, half-scandalized. The dissonance in his words felt like the clanging of a sword against a shield she herself was holding up. It rang through her, demanding refutation. "I have a lot of work yet to do here in Cutter Gap, and so do you! And-" She broke off, hesitant to say the rest.

David put down his fork and folded his hands on the table in front of himself, a caricature of attentiveness. "And?"

"And…" She couldn't look at him, but it needed to be said. "And, arranged marriages aren't always terrible, especially not between people who already know each other, and are friendly. That's the key. Respect and- I'm trying to say, I think some couples are very happy, in the end." Christy stood up to clear away the leftover dinner mess. It was suddenly very important that her hands were busy.

"Arranged, maybe. Forced, no. You surprise me, Christy."

She crossed her arms tightly and lifted her chin, feeling oddly secure in the enclosure of the doorway. "Just because something is a difficult subject doesn't mean I shouldn't correct you when you're wrong."

David laughed, but she tipped her head to the side and looked at him with as hard an expression as she could manage.

"You think you could be happy with MacNeill." He said it as a statement, rather than a question.

"Not that it matters, but I do." She sighed, and looked off to the side so she didn't have to see the ugly, frankly possessive expression on David's face. "I'm going to bed early."

"Goodnight, I suppose," he said. In her mind, the words translated to 'you're the one who is wrong,' but though it plagued her for over an hour as she tried to sleep, Christy couldn't shake her need to be defensive.

oOoOoOo

On Wednesday, the children once again deviated from their usual funeral playacting. Just as they had the day before, they clustered together and called out the roles for the planned charade, with Creed Allen playing the most important part, as usual.

"I'm the preacher!" he cried, climbing up on a small stump and putting his hands on his hips. "Becky, you're teacher, if'n you think you can handle it?"

Becky nodded with a pleased expression on her face, and Christy quickly turned back to her sweeping, not wanting the children to know she was listening. Her goal of helping to integrate the O'Teale's had been greatly helped by Becky's eye condition and the special attention she'd been getting.

They'd played wedding the day before, but that time was historical, a story that, in retrospect, bridged the gap between their usual funerial fare and the current matrimonial one. That time, Creed had played Aunt Hattie's husband, complete with a creaky voice better suited to a spouse of Hattie's current age. Rob had been roped into officiating, and Creed had 'married' Zady Spencer, who had seemed utterly delighted to have been chosen for so key a role.

Her crying once her husband and three sons had died of Typhus had been moving and ridiculous, but Christy wasn't sure she was going to approve of today's choices. Not if she was one of the characters.

"Sam Houston, d'you reckon you kin speak like Doc?"

Christy stopped sweeping. "Creed, what in heaven's name are you up to?"

Creed's face split into an enormous grin. "We's be actin' out the future, teacher!"

All of her blood froze in place. "The future?"

Sam Houston walked over, his shoulders back and his expression grave. "I've got to marry ye."

"All of you stop this right now!" Christy said, hearing the strain of fear in her voice. "Now, I don't know where you got the idea in the first place, but you should know it's not proper to act out things you think are going to happen, much less something as serious as, as-"

"Don't you like the doc?" Mountie asked softly.

"Of course I do! Do you like Sam Houston or Rob Allen? They're your classmates, right?" The children had all come to cluster around her, and Christy felt a little suffocated by the need to make them stop. "Just because you like somebody doesn't mean you're going to marry them."

"It does if yer catched kissin' all alone!" someone said from behind her.

Christy looked up at the sky and maybe kind of wished it would fall down. "Where did you get that idea?" Each of her precious, precocious students shrugged, all but one. Creed was looking her right in the eye, his confidence entirely unshakable.

"Ruby Mae came by fer dinner, and she said-"

"That is gossip, Creed Allen!"

"But teacher, I ain't git to what she said!"

"If you decided to playact a wedding based off of what she told you, it's gossip. Go inside, all of you. Lunch is over."

She stayed outside to compose herself until every single student had made their way in. The news of Margaret's death had filtered out across the Cove over the past two days; for the children to so immediately dismiss Neil's possible grief over the chance to play wedding seemed casually cruel. In other circumstances, Christy would have highlighted the situation as a chance to demonstrate kindness and consideration.

One thing in particular bothered her, but asking about it felt like it might be poking a wasp's nest. The more she thought about it, though, the more it felt like exactly the right way to point out to at least one of her students that he was being unkind.

Crouching beside Creed to help him with a mathematics problem, Christy said quietly, "I appreciate that you didn't turn Dr. MacNeill's recent loss into one of your re-enactments."

"Don't you be worryin' about that, teacher. Ain't nobody want to anyways. She done hurt the doc somethin' fierce. I reckon she can stand not havin' t' be around us, even in the afterlife!"

"Creed!" she whispered, trying her best to be scandalized. Margaret Henderson MacNeill's comment about teaching had been particularly cruel, but Christy didn't realize the children knew of her distaste.

"I ain't the only one, neither!" He leaned back from her, tipped his head back, and shouted, "Anyone else glad doc don't got a-"

Christy covered his mouth with her hand, eyes wide. "That's enough!"

The rest of the afternoon passed in a blur. Christy had a sick feeling in her stomach that wasn't just about the Cove's perspective on Margaret's death, but also fear regarding the rumors of 'indiscretions' at Neil's cabin. It was Bessie's lie but more real, with real consequences.

At dismissal she stayed at her desk, allowing a designated group of students the opportunity to lower and put away the flag. It was a proud moment for them as well as a distraction that allowed her to gather her thoughts.

Movement in the doorway caught her attention. Instead of the students bringing her the triangular folded flag, it was Fairlight Spencer.

"Fairlight! Come in, what brings you to visit?"

"A lot's happened since I seen you last. I wanted to see how you were getting on," her friend said warmly.

"It's been a strange week. I'll be happy when everything dies down and Mr. Tatum is able to get home safely. He's set to leave with the rest of his family in the morning."

Fairlight nodded. "John's been keeping me updated with the progress over at the doc's." She looked over her shoulder and back at Christy, a little smile creeping across her face. "Say, you want to walk me home? There's something I'd been meaning to ask you about after church."

"Of course," Christy said. "I guess I have been keeping to myself."

"It's real easy to get caught up in our own heads after getting spooked," her friend said sagely, leading the way down the stairs. Fairlight looked around at the landscape around them and sniffed contentedly. "Just remember, you've got a mountain full of people who care about you, and in between you an' them is all this beauty. Ain't nothing can replace that unless you let it."

"That's lovely, thank you, Fairlight."

They talked about various things on the way from the school to the Spencers, most of it related to Fairlight's hopes for her oldest children. Christy spoke very little, happy to offer support for her friend. The delicate balance of community and poverty was more complicated than she'd thought when she'd come here, and there was only so far her own advice could extend, sometimes.

When they got near the cabin, Christy saw that there was a horse tied outside. It was Neil's, and she looked at Fairlight with alarm, worried he'd been called to the house in her absence. To her surprise, Fairlight's expression was guarded, almost defensive.

"Now, don't go holding a grudge against me, you hear? You're my friend, and I mean you the best."

Christy shook her head, confused. "Fairlight, what-"

"Hello ladies," Neil said, picking his way down the hillside to them. He was wearing a fresh white shirt, his yellow vest, and a suit coat, clothing that seemed wildly out of place for an ordinary Wednesday afternoon.

Looking from one friend to the other, Christy understood that something significant must have happened, something related to the children's play-acting at lunch. Forcing herself to smile through the wave of anxiety washing through her, she lifted her chin and met Neil's eyes.

His expression was so gently apologetic that her heart pumped a hundred degrees hotter for the first seconds of their eye contact.

"It's such a fine afternoon, would you like an escort back to the Mission?" he asked solicitously.

A part of her mind screamed at her to fight the idea of an inevitable tarnished reputation for nothing more than terrible timing. Yelling at him for that wasn't very sensible, though, and it would certainly be rude, so she nodded, looking to Fairlight.

"Thank you for the walk. Maybe we can do it again without outside pressures cutting it short?"

Neil's sharp bark of laughter had the accidental benefit of cutting some of the tension.

"I deserved it," Fairlight allowed. "Another walk? I'd like that." With that, she started up the hill, stopping to nod respectfully at Neil when she passed him. "Jeb and I, we'll be holding onto that horse of yours for as long as it'll take you to work things out, if you understand me."

Neil looked to be speechless for a few seconds before he finally nodded. "I understand you."

"Good," Fairlight nodded. "That'll square up your favor." At that, she climbed up to where his horse was and settled onto a nearby stump like she planned to wait there until they got back.

"You asked her to come get me, didn't you!" Christy asked. "Why did you have to involve Fairlight at all? Couldn't you have come by the Mission to-"

"I did. Multiple times," Neil said, crossing the remaining hillside to look down at her. "Stopped by the school as well." It was possible she'd wasted a lot of his time, given his obvious annoyance. Employing an accomplice had probably been a last resort.

"I- I stayed away from everyone, not just you. I thought that would help things die down."

"It did not. Walk with me?" Neil started down the hill without waiting for a response. She followed, guilt gnawing on the parts of her insides that weren't dedicated to anticipation and anxiety.

Five minutes of suspenseful silence passed before she realized she didn't know where they were. Christy was just about to ask about it when he stepped through a gap of thick brush and out of sight. She followed and then stopped, taken by the beauty of the small area he'd led her to. They were standing a few feet from the edge of a small drop-off bordering a stream, but right past where they were standing, the elevation dipped, creating a cheerful waterfall. Across at the other bank was a patch of wildflowers, and right at their feet, the forest scrub thinned out, leaving a little stretch of mountain grass.

"This is just beautiful," she said.

"'Tis."

Christy could see him out of the corner of her eye- he was looking at her, not the view. It ought to have been intimidating, but what really threw her was the potential in his expression, the promise that it carried in context with Fairlight's 'trap' and the children's charade at lunch.

Whatever the Cove thought had happened between them, Neil must not be fighting it, she realized. The man who'd offered to keep his wife's death a secret so she could run away to Asheville was wearing his very best clothes. He'd brought her to a lovely, wild place, somewhere they wouldn't be overheard.

She was here to be persuaded.

"I wondered where you were taking me," she teased lightly. Would Neil hear the tremble in her voice and conclude she was afraid of him? She wasn't. Christy was afraid that no one from her previous life would ever understand how tempted she was to stay in these mountains forever.

"Far enough that you wouldn't be able to dodge talking to me this time," he said. It was half-teasing, half censure, and she supposed she deserved it.

Christy moved toward the waterfall and breathed in, remembering what Fairlight had said about natural beauty. "I needed to do some thinking," she finally said. Neil came to stand beside her.

"And that was enough to completely change your daily routines?"

She looked up at him. Neil was watching the waterfall, one hand in his pants pocket, at ease- but the very fact that he was standing so close still sent her pulse into cartwheels. His reason for bringing her here was plain as day, and it was time to acknowledge that.

"I find it hard to think clearly around you, sometimes."

Because she was already looking at him, Christy got to see the little flicker of something that passed through Neil at her words. He pulled in a sharp breath, but when he spoke, there was a teasing familiarity in his voice.

"When one of my patients expresses a sensitivity or aversion to something, I often suggest they spend more time around it, so they can train themselves to become more comfortable."

He shot an assessing look in her direction before refocusing on the landscape, and Christy looked down at herself. She was standing with her arms tightly crossed, shoulders shrugged up in a defensive posture. Properly chastised, she drew in a long slow breath and let her arms fall to her sides, rolling her shoulders before letting the breath back out.

"Point taken."

"It's more than a prescription, Christy. I've been visited by the elders of the Cove. They've issued an edict, of sorts."

Neil's steady rumble was a direct contrast to the cascade of contradicting images from inside her head. Her bedroom at home, complete with the view onto the street full of carriages and well-dressed townsfolk. Neil's bedroom, cozy and simple, with a view of the mountain and the sound of the stream. Her father, dressed in his Sunday best, head bent in prayer. Neil in a threadbare shirt rolled up past his elbows, head bent over the body of a child whose life he would save.

Christy bent down and picked a small purple flower, twirling it between her fingers. It seemed suddenly symbolic, plentiful here but too inconsequential to show up in the simplest of flower bouquets sold in Asheville.

Neil was waiting for her to say something; she lit on the same issue she'd brought up to Creed. "Aren't you in mourning?"

"I did my mourning long ago." Neil sighed. "That grief was wasted on someone who didn't just hate me, she hated everything I love most. I still harbor regrets, but that's all they are. Uncle Bogg knows that."

"What did he say?" she forced herself to ask.

"We're to report to the church on Sunday afternoon for the ceremony."

She grabbed his arm to turn him toward her. "Neil, that's just three days away!"

"It was five when they came to tell me," he pointed out. "I spent the other two trying to speak to you discreetly."

Christy had already crossed her arms again, partly to contain the headlong pounding of her heart. "No one came to me! Was it because they knew you'd obey them without question?" she asked in a tight voice.

She mentally constructed her arguments. It wasn't their fault they'd been locked in! It would be cruel for her to have spent hours threatened at gunpoint by Jarvis Tatum only to be threatened with guns and gunpowder by his brother, and then threatened by the Cove into marriage!

At the same time, a wild, desperate voice in the very depths of her heart was screaming that she shouldn't throw away this unexpected chance.

Neil was silent. When she glanced up at him, she saw the unhappy set of his jaw before he said, "There was no reasoning with them."

"But you're known to be… partial to me. You grew up listening to those men, but I didn't," Christy exclaimed. "I should get a chance to-"

"You think I was given a chance to object?" he interrupted incredulously.

"Would you object?"

Neil ran his hand roughly through his hair and stalked over to the farthest edge of their small little oasis. "I should not be allowed to tie another young woman to an overworked doctor in the middle of the mountains. You have a thousand dreams of making the world better, Christy. How many people live here versus the number of people you could help where you came from?" His voice was thick with emotion. "How do I say that to a group of men who have spent their whole lives in these mountains, same as me? Leaders who have seen family members starve in the lean times, who've been shot at by those who rejected their authority- and who fixes them up when that happens?"

"You do."

"I wish you could have seen the respect on their faces when they came to speak to me about this. When I was a boy I would have craved that. I was so proud of what I'd accomplished, the things I'd learned- and when I came back from my schooling I was a stranger to them." Neil bowed his head, and her heart broke for the young man he must have been. He'd thrown himself headfirst into another country, a whole new economic and social structure, and not only had he thrived, he'd learned enough to come back and make a significant difference in the lives of his people.

She walked half the distance between them. "That respect was more than earned, I hope you know that."

"I had to start from scratch, but when they listen to me, it's because they trust my judgment, not just my breeding." He looked over his shoulder at her. "Not that it helped much."

Christy allowed herself a small smile. "I can't picture you standing there obediently receiving orders."

"I didn't. I told them there was a good chance Ferrand will pull your funding. He'd be a fool not to; anyone who's met ye knows you'd never stop teaching those children unless you're physically incapable of it." Neil shifted to face her, stress etched onto the lines of his face. "I told them there was a chance you'd leave anyway, and if you did, Cutter Gap would be without a teacher."

"They wouldn't send anyone else if they thought something like this might happen again," Christy realized aloud.

"Aye."

A thought occurred to her, and her laugh made him look at her like she'd grown a second head. "I just had the thought: I don't think rabbit stew is going to get us out of this one," she explained.

"No, it's a bit more complicated than that," he said. Neil looked at the ground, then came over, leaning down to pick something up. With a half smile, he handed it to her.

It was the tiny purple flower she'd dropped. The petals were scuffed a little, but it still smelled sweet.

"You spoke about thinking clearly. I haven't been able to do that around you for some time," he confessed, sincerity gleaming in his eyes. She was captivated, fingers clutching the delicate flower to her chest. "I can't offer you the life you would have had in Asheville or Baltimore, but picturing you in expensive silks attending parties so far away- it makes my chest ache. I don't think you'd find that life fulfilling, and neither would I. That's why I came back here." Neil took her hand, his large thumb swiping a caress over the top of it. "I'd be honored to make a life with you, Christy. The very thought has me as drunk as I was last Saturday. I'll grant, this isn't the way I would have liked to ask you, but as far as I'm concerned, Tatum just sped up the timeline."

"That's the most romantic thing anyone's ever said to me," she whispered, overcome.

Neil dropped the hand he was holding. "-but I'm a friend. A colleague. And not only is this very sudden, but it's being forced on you," he said stiffly, seeming to be quoting lines to an argument he'd had with an imaginary version of her. "I understand."

"I didn't- that's not what I-"

Christy rushed to stop him from walking back through the brush, catching handfuls of his suit coat in each hand. She'd only just recognized her own feelings! That Neil felt anything even remotely similar was dizzying and wonderful… except the last thing she wanted to do was promise too much. Not after she'd spent so much time trying to prove she wasn't Margaret.

If they obeyed the Cove's edict, wouldn't there be time to tell him how she felt? Wouldn't that be more rewarding?

"Please, listen to me," Christy begged, willing him to look at her instead of staring at the obscured path ahead with a resolute expression. "Neil," she tried again.

He shut his eyes, then refocused them to meet hers. The vulnerability there almost made her change her mind and tell him the whole truth of her feelings, but would he even believe her, if she told him now?

"You're right, it is sudden, and it is being forced on us. Both of us," Christy emphasized. "But I don't want to leave Cutter Gap. I want to continue making a difference here, and I want your work to continue. I want to stay. With you."