Midnight Rescue / The Proposal / Christy's Choice (11 page)

The doctor smiled. “Come to think of it, I am feeling a bit light-headed. Could be delirium setting in.”

Christy reached over to feel his forehead. “You do feel hot.”

“Strangest thing. I'm hearing music, too. Think I'm hallucinating?” He stood, grinning down at her, and reached out his hand. “You do still owe me a dance, you know.”

“Now that you mention it,” Christy said as she got to her feet, “I seem to be hearing music, too.”

She gave a little curtsy and the doctor pulled her close, using his good arm. Together, they swept slowly around the parlor, dancing to the music of the rain drumming on the roof.

“I'm so glad you're all right,” the doctor whispered.

Christy lay her head on his broad chest. Memories whirled in her mind—frightening memories. The doctor's blood-soaked shirt. The sound of the parlor window shattering. The cold muzzle of Bird's-Eye's gun between her shoulders.

She closed her eyes. The doctor was humming an old mountain tune. The fire crackled softly.

Slowly, one by one, other memories came to her. Miss Alice's graceful smile at her birthday party. Starlight, spilling over Prince's coat that night in the shed. Ruby Mae's musical laughter. Christy's class at recess, filled with high spirits and spring fever—filled with love for these beautiful, dangerous, complicated, God-given mountains.

The doctor paused. “What are you thinking?” he asked.

“I was thinking,” Christy whispered, “that I don't want this dance to ever end.”

The Proposal

Contents

The Characters

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

Thirteen

Fourteen

Fifteen

The Characters

CHRISTY RUDD HUDDLESTON
, a nineteen-year-old girl.

CHRISTY'S STUDENTS
:

CREED ALLEN, age nine.

LITTLE BURL ALLEN, age six.

WANDA BECK, age eight.

BESSIE COBURN, age twelve.

LIZETTE HOLCOMBE, age fifteen.

SAM HOUSTON HOLCOMBE, age nine.

WRAIGHT HOLT, age seventeen.

ZACHARIAS HOLT, age nine.

VELLA HOLT, age five.

SMITH O'TEALE, age fifteen.

ORTER BALL O'TEALE, age eleven.

MOUNTIE O'TEALE, age ten.

RUBY MAE MORRISON, age thirteen.

JOHN SPENCER, age fifteen.

CLARA SPENCER, age twelve.

LULU SPENCER, age six.

LUNDY TAYLOR, age seventeen.

DAVID GRANTLAND
, the young minister.

IDA GRANTLAND
, David's sister.

MRS. MERCY GRANTLAND
, mother of David and Ida.

FAIRLIGHT SPENCER
, a mountain woman.

JEB SPENCER
, her husband.
(Parents of Christy's students John, Clara, and Lulu.)

DELIA JANE MANNING
, a friend of David's from Richmond, Virginia.

PRINCE
, black stallion donated to the mission.

GOLDIE
, mare belonging to Miss Alice Henderson.

DR. NEIL MACNEILL
, the physician of the Cove.

ALICE HENDERSON
, a Quaker mission worker from Ardmore, Pennsylvania.

BEN PENTLAND
, the mailman.

One

M
iz Christy! I got a question to ask you! And it's a matter of life and death—yours!”

Christy Huddleston paused near the edge of Big Spoon Pond. Creed Allen, a nine-year-old who was one of her students at the Cutter Gap Mission school, dashed toward her.

“What is it, Creed?” Christy called. “The Reverend Grantland and I were just about to go for a boat ride.”

Creed came to a stop, panting. “I know.

That's what I got to ask you about.”

“Actually, Creed,” David Grantland said with an impatient roll of his dark eyes, “
I
have something to ask Miss Christy, too. Something very important.”

Christy looked at David in surprise. Something in his expression sent a shiver through her of excitement mixed with uncertainty.

Could it be . . . ?

David had arranged this special evening so carefully. He'd told Christy to dress up, so she'd worn her favorite yellow dress and braided daisies in her sun-streaked hair. David was wearing his Sunday best, and his dark hair was slicked back. They'd had a dinner picnic.

David had brought hand-picked flowers and a homemade cake his sister, Ida, had made especially for the occasion. He'd even brought a candle along in case it got dark. The sun was just now beginning to sink, sending a golden sheen over the pond.

Creed tugged on Christy's arm. His freckled face was tight with worry. “Please, Miz Christy.

I need to talk to you, in private. It's for your own good, I reckon.”

“David,” Christy said, “would you mind giving Creed and me a moment of privacy?”

David sighed loudly. “Creed, do you understand that Miss Christy and I are in the middle of . . .” He hesitated, glancing at Christy. “Of . . . an appointment?”

“Appointment?” Christy teased. “Is that what this is, David?”

“Shucks, Preacher,” Creed said apologetically. “I didn't know you was appointin'. I just figgered you was sweetheartin'.”

Christy stifled a giggle as David's cheeks turned as red as the setting sun. “Tell me, Creed,” she said, taking the boy aside. “What brings you so far out of your way? What was it you wanted to know?”

“Well . . .” Creed tugged at a ragged overall strap. “It's like this. Can you swim?”

“Yes, I can. But why do you ask?”

Creed lowered his voice to a whisper. “See, me and Sam Houston saw the preacher out here after school, practicin' his boatin'. Now, the preacher's mighty fine at speechifyin', don't get me wrong, but he ain't no boatin' man.” Creed glanced at David, then hung his head sadly. “It was like watchin' a hound try to strum a banjo. Just 'cause he tries hard don't mean the Lord meant it to be so.”

“Thank you, Creed, for your concern,” Christy said, trying very hard not to smile. “But I promise I'll be fine.”

“That's a mighty tippy ol' rowboat.”

“We are not going to tip over, Creed.”

Creed did not look at all convinced.

“Now, you run along,” Christy said. “I'll see you on Monday at school.”

David was waiting by the boat impatiently. “What was it Creed wanted?”

“He was concerned about my well-being.”

“As it happens,” David said with a smile, “so am I.”

He held out his arm. Christy lifted her long dress and stepped into the little wooden rowboat that belonged to the mission. David gave the boat a gentle push and leapt aboard. The boat rocked back and forth like a huge cradle. He fumbled with the oars for a moment, then settled into an uneven back-and-forth motion.

Christy trailed her hand in the water. The pond was still cold, although the air was surprisingly warm for May. She had only been in the Great Smoky Mountains of Tennessee for a few months, but already Christy had learned that the weather could be very unpredictable.

From far off, a mourning dove cooed its sweet, sad song. Beyond the pond, the mountains loomed—dark and vast, yet somehow comforting. David's oars sent red and gold ripples through the water.

“Sometimes I can't believe how beautiful it is here,” Christy whispered. “Fairlight Spencer says it's like God's most perfect painting.” Fairlight was Christy's closest friend in Cutter Gap.

David stopped rowing and stared intently at Christy. “Funny,” he said softly, “sometimes I feel that way when I look at you, Christy.” He reached into his pocket. “There's something I—” He pulled out a white envelope covered with delicate handwriting. “That's not what I was looking for,” he muttered. “What
did
I do with that box?”

Christy cleared her throat nervously. Out here alone with David as the first faint stars began to glimmer, she felt very young and awkward. What if David really
was
planning on asking her to marry him? What would she say? She was only nineteen. And they'd only known each other a few months. Was she ready for such a life-changing commitment? “Who's the letter from?” Christy asked.

“My mother,” David said with a grin. “She's coming for a visit soon.”

“That will be wonderful!” Christy exclaimed. “I can't wait to meet her.”

“Don't be too sure.” David gazed up at the darkening sky. “She's a little . . . well, interfering. Especially since my father passed on a couple years ago. She can be rather judgmental, I suppose. But she means well. You know what Ida's like.”

Christy smiled. David's sister, Ida, was a stiff, no-nonsense type who took life very seriously.

“Mother's like Ida,” David continued, “only she's more outspoken. And she has even higher standards.”

“Standards?” Christy asked. “Such as?”

“Such as she thinks her only son should be preaching at a fine city church with velvet cushions on the pews. Not in a schoolhouse filled with people who spit tobacco during his sermons.”

“My parents were the same way when I decided to come to Cutter Gap to teach,” Christy recalled. “I tried to explain to them that I felt like I had a calling. That there was something I
needed
to do with my life.”

“It's not just my work Mother's concerned about.” He gave a soft laugh. “She even has a girl picked out for me.”

“A girl?” Christy repeated.

“Delia Jane Manning,” David said. He looked down at the water, as if he could see her image there. “Very prim, very well-bred. Very boring, too.”

“Is she also very pretty?”

“Not to worry, Miss Huddleston. She couldn't hold a candle to you.” He took a couple of quick strokes and the rowboat glided to the middle of the pond. It was dark now. The sliver of moon glimmered in the water like a lost smile.

“Did you have ‘appointments' with this Miss Manning, too?” Christy teased.

“Oh, we went to some social events together from time to time. Delia loves the opera, the ballet, the theater. And she's a wonderful equestrian.”

“That reminds me,” Christy said. “Tomorrow you promised me my first jumping lesson on Prince.” Prince, the mission's proud black stallion, was a recent donation to the mission.

Christy gave a little shrug. “Of course, it won't exactly be like riding with your friend Miss Manning.”

“Thank goodness for that,” David said gently. He leaned closer and reached for Christy's hand. His fingers were trembling. Christy realized that she was trembling, too.

“You know what my mother thinks?” David said. “She thinks I wasn't too happy here at the mission until you came along. She thinks maybe you're the reason I'm staying here.”

Christy took a deep breath. “Am I?” she whispered.

David smiled. “What do you think?” He reached into his pocket again and withdrew a small velvet box. Carefully he opened it. “This,” he said, “was my great-great-grand-mother's.” He held out the box. The diamonds caught the moonlight and turned it into a thousand stars.

“Christy,” David said, his voice barely audible above the breeze, “may I have your hand—” He stopped suddenly. “No. Wait. This is all wrong. I keep looking into those blue eyes of yours and forgetting all my careful plans.” He laughed sheepishly. “I'll bet I've practiced this a hundred times.”

Christy felt a strange sensation overtaking her. Dread, fear, joy—what
was
it she was feeling? David was about to ask her to marry him! What should she say? Did she love David?
Really
love him? How did you know such a thing?

Fairlight said love felt like your heart had sprouted wings. “It makes you all fluttery and light inside,” she'd promised. Did Christy ever feel that way with David? Sometimes. On the other hand, she'd felt that way with Doctor MacNeill, too, and of
course
she didn't love him!

Most of the time, all she felt for Neil MacNeill was frustration; the man was so ornery. At least with David, there were no highs or lows. He was just a good, steady, reliable friend. Someone she could always count on.

David made her feel safe and secure. He shared Christy's values. And she had to admit he was very charming, not to mention good-looking. He was the kind of man Christy's mother would have called “a good catch.” Wasn't he just the kind of man Christy wanted for a husband?

“David,” Christy said. “I'm not sure—”

“Wait, wait,” David said. He handed Christy the ring as he shifted his position. The boat began to rock. “I want to do this just right.”

Awkwardly, David balanced on one knee. The boat seesawed, sending cold spray into Christy's face.

As she wiped it away, Christy noticed a dark figure walking along the edge of the pond. “Who could that be?”

“Hello!” came a familiar, deep voice.

“It's the doctor!” Christy cried.

David glanced over his shoulder. “Just my luck,” he groaned. “Ignore him, Christy.”

“I try to make a habit of it,” she joked.

“I mean it. I have something important to say, and I intend to say it now, before I lose my nerve.”

“Go ahead, David. I'm listening.”

“Christy Rudd Huddleston—” David swallowed, “may I have your hand in marr—”

“How's the fishing, you two?” the doctor called.

David's eyes widened in rage. He clenched his fists, leapt up, and spun around. “Can't you see we're—” he began, but just then the boat began to sway wildly, taking on water with each rock.

Christy grabbed the sides of the rowboat. She watched David flail his arms as he tried to regain his balance. He looked so ridiculous that she began to laugh.