Midnight Rescue / The Proposal / Christy's Choice (15 page)

“Proud to meet you,” Ruby Mae said. “I never rightly figgered the preacher
had
a mama. But I guess everybody does, even preachers—”

“Yes, well, delighted to meet you,” Mrs. Grantland interrupted. “And who might this unfortunate soul be?”

Christy realized with a start that Mrs. Grantland must be referring to her.

“This,” David said, “is Christy Huddleston, Mother.”

Christy extended her hand out into the air, but Mrs. Grantland didn't take it. “It's nice to meet you, Mrs. Grantland. David's told me so much about you.”

“Is she
blind
?” Mrs. Grantland asked David, as if Christy were deaf as well.

“Christy had an accident, Mother,” David said tensely. “She can't see, but we're all praying that it's just temporary.”

“Oh, my. Poor dear. What a shame.”

Christy felt a hand patting her on the head. Suddenly she felt the need for air. “We were just on our way to church, Mrs. Grantland,” she said as she stood. “Will you be joining us?”

“I was hoping to freshen up first. Not that it would matter much here,” Mrs. Grantland added with a dry laugh. “The church—would that be the wooden building I noticed on the way in?”

“It's the schoolhouse as well,” Miss Alice said. “David built most of it himself, from the ground up.”

“He always was a talented boy.”

“Indeed,” the doctor muttered under his breath.

Mr. Pentland cleared his throat. “There's a couple big trunks out yonder.”

“I'll help you with them,” David volunteered.

“Me, too,” Ida said.

“I'd better supervise.” Mrs. Grantland rushed off, skirts swishing.

“Is she gone?” Christy asked in a whisper.

“Yep,” Doctor MacNeill said in a low voice. “She's not one to mince words, is she?”

“David warned us she could be rather blunt,” Miss Alice said. “Now I see what he meant. Of course, she's probably very tired after her long trip.”

“I thought she was kinda mean about Miz Christy and all,” Ruby Mae said.

Christy sighed. “I could use a little fresh air. Doctor, would you mind escorting me over to the church?”

“As long as you don't ask me to stay,” the doctor joked.

Christy took his arm and they headed out into the sunshine. She could hear Mrs. Grantland's voice on the far side of the mission house, directing David to be careful with her bags. She could hear the squeak of the springs in Mr. Pentland's wagon, and the babble of the mockingbirds in the nearby oak tree.

Christy paused near a stand of pines. She rested her hand on one of the trees and held up her head toward the sun. “Do you think I'll ever see the sky again, Neil?” she whispered.

“I hope so, Christy. With all my heart, I hope so.”

They stood for a moment, arms linked. Mrs. Grantland's harsh voice floated over the breeze.

You can't possibly be thinking of marrying her now, David.

Christy clutched Doctor MacNeill's arm tighter. “She's talking about me!”

“Come on,” he said. “You don't need to be hearing this.”

But Christy stood firm. She could hear David replying in hushed tones. Then she heard Mrs. Grantland again.

But she's blind, David. What kind of a wife would a blind woman make?

Christy's heart seemed to stop. Mrs. Grantland was right, of course. What kind of wife would Christy make now? What kind of teacher? What kind of
person
?

Miss Alice had been wrong to encourage Christy last night. She'd just been trying to be kind. Mrs. Grantland was only saying what everyone else was thinking.

Doctor MacNeill pulled Christy along toward the church. “Ignorant old crow,” he muttered. “You'd make a fine wife for any man. I hope you know that.” He gave a short laugh. “Well, not
any
man. Not the Reverend, certainly.”

“And why not David?”

“You're a fine woman, Christy. You don't have to settle for less. Remember that when you answer the Reverend. Don't make a choice you'll regret the rest of your life because . . . because you're selling yourself short now.”

Christy was surprised when his voice broke. He led her up the stairs to the schoolhouse and helped her settle on a front bench. Then he left without another word.

Church was a new experience. Without being able to see, it became a picture made of sounds and sensations and scents. It was the familiar smell of chalk and wood smoke and tobacco. It was the sound of rustling Sunday school papers and the coos of babies and the whispers of restless children. It was the vibration in the wooden floor, as the congregation tapped their feet while singing an old hymn.

Oh, for a faith that will not shrink
, they sang, and Christy listened to their voices surround her like a warm embrace. Here, with her mountain friends, she felt safe and secure. One by one as they'd entered the church this morning, they'd come to her. The children had climbed in her lap and hugged her. The women had brought her cakes and cookies and breads—things they could hardly afford to give away. The men had been more awkward, but they, too, had come forward. Their words were simple—
Powerful sorry to hear about your troubles, Miz Christy
, or
I done prayed for you last night
. But what she'd heard in their voices wasn't pity. It wasn't anything like the tone she'd heard in Mrs. Grantland's harsh words. It was love.

When the room grew hushed, Christy knew that David was about to start his sermon. She heard his steady footsteps as he walked to the small pulpit. “The preacher's a-comin,” whispered Mountie, who was sitting next to Christy on the hard wooden bench. She was serving as an extra pair of eyes for Christy, informing her about what was happening in the room.

“That's my son,” Christy heard Mrs. Grantland whisper in a pew behind her.

The memory of her hurtful words came back to Christy.
You can't possibly be thinking of marrying her now, David.

They were strong, blunt words. Words that stung. At first, they had made Christy want to cry. But now, surrounded by her friends, she began to feel angry.

What kind of a wife would a blind woman make?

“Hebrews, 11:1,” David began in his clear, strong voice. “‘Faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.'” He paused. “‘The evidence of things not seen.' What does that mean? What does that mean to each of us as we struggle through the trials of life?”

Christy listened intently. Somehow she felt as if David were speaking directly to her.

“There are many ways of seeing,” he continued. “We can see with our eyes, of course. But that doesn't begin to paint the whole picture. Even the most perfect, shiny apple can have a worm inside. So how else can we see?”

Christy heard steps, and she knew that David was moving down the aisle that separated the men and women. He liked to move among the congregation as he spoke to them.

“We can ‘see' with our other senses, too,” David continued. “We can hear and smell and taste and touch, but we're never going to know the true nature of a thing that way. Sight can blur. Hearing can go bad. You have only to look at Jeb Spencer's old coon dog, Magic, to know that. Jeb tells me that hound couldn't sniff out a skunk in a patch of pokeweed.” The room broke into laughter. “No, only the heart can detect the evidence of things not seen.”

He paused. Christy could tell he was only a few feet away, near the end of her bench.

“We cannot touch faith. We can't see it with our eyes, or hear it with our ears. But we can know it, as sure and solid as the earth beneath our feet, if we use our hearts.”

David's voice wavered. “You don't need eyes to have faith. You don't need anything but a good and loving and open heart.”

Christy felt Mountie's small fingers lace into hers. When Christy had started teaching, Mountie had barely spoken more than a few garbled words. She'd had a terrible speech problem, and the taunts of her classmates had left her almost mute. But a tiny gesture of caring from Christy—sewing a few old buttons onto Mountie's worn and tattered coat— had been the beginning of a miraculous change.

“We can see the world in a whole new way,” David said softly, “when we use our hearts, instead of our eyes.”

Soon the room was full of song again.
Amazing grace
, they sang, in that boisterous, full-of-life way they had. Christy sang, too, letting the words move her.

Slowly, other words came back to her— Miss Alice's words.
You will teach again, when you are ready.

For the first time since her accident, Christy felt a glimmer of hope. What kind of a wife would she make? What kind of teacher? What kind of person?

She wasn't sure, but she knew she wanted to find out.

Eight

I
must say that was a fine sermon,” Mrs. Grantland said that evening at the dinner table. “Although the circumstances left a great deal to be desired. I don't know how you do it, David, dear. The primitive conditions! I mean, really.
Pigs
living under the floor!”

“Them's hogs, Miz Grantland,” Ruby Mae corrected.

“Thank you for clearing that up.”

Christy smiled. All through dinner, Mrs. Grantland had been talking that way. Poor David! Christy didn't know how he managed to keep his tongue. The only time he'd lashed out was when Mrs. Grantland had suggested Christy might be more “comfortable” eating in her room, where she could make a mess without being embarrassed.

It hadn't even bothered Christy. Ever since church that morning, she'd been filled with a sense of hope and resolve.

“And the
smells
!” Mrs. Grantland continued. “I thought I was going to faint. Thank goodness I had my perfumed hankie with me.”

“You get used to it after a while, Mother,”

Miss Ida said.

“Goodness, me! I certainly hope not, dear. I keep telling David he needs a ministry back home in Richmond. He belongs in a big, fine church with a congregation that understands what he's saying. A church without any tobacco spitting or mangy dogs or pigs.”

“Hogs, ma'am,” Ruby Mae corrected again. “The congregation here may not be the best dressed or the most educated, Mrs. Grantland,” said Miss Alice, “but you can be certain they understand and respect David. He's made great strides since coming here to Cutter Gap.”

“But don't the souls in Richmond deserve saving just as much as the ones here?” Mrs. Grantland persisted.

“I believe the Lord's work can be done anywhere,” Miss Alice said. Christy could hear the edge in her voice. It was the tone Miss Alice reserved for a wayward child.

“This is my calling, Mother,” David said. “I belong here in Cutter Gap.”

“Nonsense!” Mrs. Grantland cried. “You belong where you'll be properly appreciated.”

“Isn't it really . . .” Christy paused. She felt strange, interrupting a conversation when she couldn't see the participants. “Isn't it David's choice, Mrs. Grantland? My parents weren't eager for me to come here, but in the end, they understood how important it was to me.”

“Indeed. And look what happened to you.” Christy took a deep breath. “Still, I don't regret coming here. I've made so many friends—”

“I'm afraid,” Mrs. Grantland interrupted, “that may be David's problem.”

“And what problem is that, Mother?” David inquired.

“Oh, you know. Friends can keep you rooted to a place when it's time to move on.” Christy had the strange feeling that Mrs. Grantland was looking right at her.

“Well,” Miss Ida said after a moment of awkward silence, “I think it's time for me to clear the plates.”

“I'll help,” David said quickly.

“No, let me,” said Miss Alice.

“Me, too,” Ruby Mae chimed in.

“All of you stay put,” Mrs. Grantland commanded. “There's something I must do. I've brought you all gifts.”

“Presents!” Ruby Mae cried.

Christy could hear Mrs. Grantland swish across the dining room. She always seemed to move in great, flowing movements that made Christy think of an actress dashing across a stage.

“It was so hard to know what to bring,” Mrs. Grantland said. “Now I see I could have brought everything but the kitchen sink. You
do
have a kitchen sink, don't you?”

“Yes, Mother,” Miss Ida said, laughing.

“And a proper pump right outside,” Ruby Mae added.

“Haven't you people heard of indoor plumbing?”

“We have, Mother,” David replied. “But we think it's more fun tromping out into the yard in sub-zero temperatures to get a bucket of near-frozen water. It builds character.”

“Don't you get sassy with your own mother,” Mrs. Grantland chided, but it was clear she was laughing, too.

“This was very generous of you, Mother,” David said.

“Oh, you know me. Any excuse to shop.”

Christy heard the clasps of a trunk pop open, then the rustle of paper.

“I've brought plenty of books and magazines, of course,” Mrs. Grantland began.

“Books!” Christy exclaimed. “That's wonderful! You have no idea how desperate the school is for reading material.”

It occurred to her with a sudden pang that she might never again read another book.
No
, she told herself firmly.
No more thinking like that.

“And I brought these for the mission house,” Mrs. Grantland said.

Ruby Mae gasped. “Those gotta be the biggest diamonds in the world!”

“Actually, they're crystal, Ruby Mae,” said Miss Alice. “Beautiful crystal candlesticks.”

“They seem silly now,” Mrs. Grantland said, for the first time sounding a little less sure of herself. “With all you need . . .”

“Quite the contrary,” Miss Alice said gently. “They're a reminder of all the beauty in the world. A touch of magic. Thank you, Mrs. Grantland. It was very kind of you.”