This is without a doubt the messiest cabin I have ever seen!” Christy Huddleston exclaimed.
Doctor Neil MacNeill gave a hearty laugh. “I’m a doctor, Christy, not a housekeeper.”
“Look at this dust.” Christy wrote her name in the thick dust layering a cupboard full of medical books. “It’s a good thing you don’t perform surgery in this room.”
“Actually, I do, on occasion.”
Christy pointed to a stuffed deer head mounted on the wall. “Those antlers are covered with spider webs, Neil!”
Doctor MacNeill crossed his arms over his chest, hazel eyes sparkling. “I was under the impression you were sent here by Miss Alice to pick up some medical supplies. If I’d known there was going to be a housekeeping inspection, I would have prepared.” Playfully, he tossed a feather duster at Christy. “Since you’re so concerned, please feel free to take a whack at the dust.”
“I can’t stay that long. Besides, anyone who can perform delicate surgery can surely figure out how to operate a feather duster,” Christy replied, laughing. “Before heading back to the mission, I thought I’d say hello to your new neighbors. How are the Washingtons doing, anyway?”
“Just getting settled in.” The doctor began filling a small glass bottle with the dark, bitter-smelling medicine he and Miss Alice used to treat whooping cough. “They’re in that abandoned cabin, but it’s going to need a lot of repairs. Nice family. Four kids, three school-age.”
“That’ll bring my grand total up to seventy students,” Christy said. “Amazing. When I decided to come here to Cutter Gap to teach, I pictured perhaps twenty children in my schoolroom at the most. But seventy! That’s quite a handful.”
The doctor grinned. He was a big man, with rugged, handsome features that looked like they’d been chiseled out of rough stone. His curly, sandy-red hair, always in need of a comb, gave him a boyish look. “For most mere mortals, that many students would be impossible,” he said. “But for you, my dear Miss Huddleston, nothing is impossible.”
Christy reached for the next empty new bottle and held it steady while the doctor filled it with medicine. His hands were rough and stained, the mark of long years caring for the desperately poor residents of this Tennessee mountain cove. Although Christy had lived here several months, her own hands seemed fragile and soft by comparison. They were the hands of a “city-gal,” as the mountain people would say.
In some ways she still was that fresh-faced girl from Asheville, North Carolina—frightened, but full of big dreams. Her wide blue eyes and delicate features made her look younger than her nineteen years. She wore her sun-streaked hair swept up to make herself look older, but Christy knew it didn’t fool anyone.
The doctor put a stopper in each of the two bottles he’d just filled. He gazed around the cabin with a critical eye. “Maybe you’re right,” he said. “This place could use a good cleaning.”
It was a simple cabin, but well-furnished by mountain standards. A bearskin rug lay on the hearth. An old cherry clock ticked on the mantel. A rack of antlers served as a coat rack. A hunting rifle was propped against the wall in the corner, and a pipe with an engraved silver band rested in the pipe rack by a chair. Framed, inscribed photos, most from the doctor’s years at medical school, peered out from the dusty shelves.
“Christy,” the doctor said, “there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you. Um, ask you. It’s about—” he cleared his throat, “well, about a wedding, actually.”
Christy blinked in surprise. “A wedding?”
“Yes, that’s right. And a confession I have to make.”
The doctor’s fingers were trembling as he reached for another empty bottle. It wasn’t like him to be so nervous, and it certainly wasn’t like him to blush!
Christy gulped. She’d already been through one proposal since coming to Cutter Gap. David Grantland, the mission’s young minister, had asked for her hand in marriage not long ago. In the end, despite her affection for David, Christy had told him no. She’d explained that she needed more time to be sure of her feelings. She cared for David. But she also cared deeply for Doctor MacNeill— perhaps more than she was willing to admit, even to herself.
“What do you mean, ‘confession’?” Christy asked, not sure she was ready to hear the answer. “What are you trying to say, Neil?”
He took a deep breath. “Is it hot in here?”
“Not really.”
The doctor fanned his face with his hand.
“It’s definitely hot. Why don’t we go out on the porch?”
They settled into the old oak rockers on the cabin porch. Tulip trees and giant beeches formed a graceful canopy, shading out most of the hot late afternoon sun. “It’s so beautiful here,” Christy said, thinking it might be a good idea to change the subject.
“Yes, it is,” the doctor replied. “I was born in this cabin, did you know that? So was my grandfather, and his grandfather before him. Sometimes I think these mountains are in my blood.” He looked over at Christy, a pained expression on his face. “A man could do much worse. Couldn’t he?”
“Neil,” Christy said gently, “what is it you’re trying to tell me?”
He rubbed his eyes. “It’s silly, really. Crazy, even.”
“Tell me.”
“Well, it’s like this.” He took a deep breath. “I have an old friend by the name of James Briley. We went to medical school together. We were roommates, best friends— and competitors, I suppose. James went on to establish a thriving practice in Knoxville. He invited me to join him, and I was sorely tempted. But I felt an obligation to come back to Cutter Gap and help the people here. There wasn’t a doctor within a hundred miles of this place. This was where I was needed.”
“You did the right thing, Neil.”
“I suppose.” The doctor shrugged. “The thing is, it seems James is getting married, and he’s invited me to the wedding.”
“Oh!” Christy exclaimed. “So that’s what you meant!”
“What did you think I meant?”
“I thought . . .” It was Christy’s turn to blush. “I mean, I know it’s crazy, but I thought you—”
“You thought I was going to propose to you?” The doctor threw back his head and laughed.
“Well, it isn’t that funny,” Christy protested.
“Isn’t one proposal a year enough for you?” Doctor MacNeill asked, still chuckling. “You can stop laughing now.”
“I’m sorry. You’ll understand why it’s so funny when I explain my predicament. It’s really quite amusing, actually. You see, James’s letters are always full of automobiles and exotic trips and his beautiful house and his famous patients. My letters—well, let’s just say a successful possum hunt can’t quite measure up. I know I shouldn’t feel that way, but it’s hard . . .”
“No, you shouldn’t. You have a wonderful life here in Cutter Gap.”
“Seems it’s even better now. A few letters ago, when I learned James was engaged, I sort of let it slip that I’d become engaged myself.” The doctor forced a laugh. “You’ll get a good laugh out of this when I tell you . . .”
Christy tapped her foot on the wooden porch. “Try me.”
“Well,” the doctor said uncomfortably, “I sort of casually mentioned to old James that you and I were sort of . . .”
“Yes?”
“Sort of engaged.”