After school that afternoon, Christy hurriedly graded some papers and cleaned the chalkboard. When she was done, she headed straight to Miss Alice’s cabin for the weekly Bible study.
Christy had always loved these meetings. Miss Alice would read in her soothing voice while the other women sewed or simply listened. It was a beautiful cabin inside, full of warmth and color. Polished brass candlesticks shone on the mantel. Cherry and pine furniture gleamed in the sunshine. Whenever Christy was there, she felt transported back to her old life in Asheville. It was a place of beauty, of sophistication, a place where the world was full of promise, not despair.
A world, she realized, like the one Doctor MacNeill seemed to be longing for.
Today, however, when Christy entered Miss Alice’s cabin, the scene was not at all what she expected. In one corner sat some of the women who came regularly to the meetings. Granny O’Teale and her daughter-in-law, Swannie, were there. Aunt Polly Teague—at ninety-two, the oldest woman in the Cove—was in her favorite rocker. Fairlight Spencer, Christy’s close friend, had come, and so had Lety Coburn. Christy was surprised and relieved to see that Mary Allen had come, too.
Still, many faces were missing. One look at the other corner, where Margaret and Louise Washington sat alone, explained why.
How did the word get out so quickly? Christy wondered. But of course she knew the answer. By now she understood that news had a way of traveling fast in Cutter gap—like “greased lightning,” as her students liked to say.
“Christy!” Miss Alice exclaimed. “Come, sit down. We were just getting started. You see we have some new faces.”
“Margaret, Louise.” Christy sat down beside them. “I’m so glad you could come. You, too, Mary.”
Mary gave a terse nod, but said nothing.
Christy gazed around her. Most of the women sat on one side. Christy and the Washingtons sat on the other. Miss Alice in the middle, trying to make peace. They were divided into warring camps, separated by hate and misunderstanding. Just like her classroom.
Miss Alice seemed to be reading Christy’s mind. “I’ll strain my voice, having to read to the east and west side of the cabin. Suppose we all try to move our chairs a little closer?”
No one moved. Margaret studied her Bible. Louise looked as if she were about to cry.
Fairlight cleared her throat. She picked up her chair and moved it next to Louise. “There,” Miss Alice said. “That’s much better.”
Christy looked at her gratefully. Fairlight was a good woman, as warm and gentle as her radiant smile. She would be one ally, at least.
“How was school today, Christy?” Miss Alice asked, clearly hoping to break the icy silence.
Before Christy could answer, Lety Coburn spoke up. “Any more stealin’?” she asked, shooting a look at Margaret. “I hear tell things are disappearin’ from that school right and left.”
“I don’t think it’s anything serious, Lety,” Christy assured her. “A doll, a hat, some odds and ends. I suspect the children just misplaced them.”
“You suspect what you suspect,” Lety said, “but I have my own ideas.”
Christy sighed. “Is there some reason we can’t at least try to get along? On my way here, I passed one of my students playing with Margaret’s daughter, Hannah. They were laughing and giggling and having a wonderful time. I think we could all take a lesson from—”
“Whose child was it?” Swannie O’Teale demanded.
“That doesn’t matter,” Christy said, suddenly realizing she was just making things worse. The last thing she wanted was to get Della May in trouble for having shown some kindness to Hannah. “The point is—”
“Weren’t my Mountie or Mary, were it?” Swannie pressed. “I done told those girls to keep their distance.”
“Then why are you here?” Margaret spoke up for the first time. “You must have heard we were coming to the Bible study. Everyone seems to know everything in this place.”
“I’m here ’cause it’s rightfully my place to be here,” Swannie jutted her chin. “unlike some.”
“If we ain’t wanted here,” Louise said, leaping from her chair, “then I think we should go, Ma!”
“Louise, please stay,” Miss Alice said in a calm, reassuring voice. “Everyone is welcome here in this cabin. This is a place for fellowship and love.” She gave Swannie a stern look. “Not intolerance. Christy’s right. Let’s think about how we can get along. In God’s eyes, we are all family, all worthy of His love. I think the key to understanding is to look beyond the surface and see what we all have in common. Before I start today’s reading, why don’t you tell us a little more about your family, Margaret? Once we get to know one another better, we’ll have a better chance at getting along.”
Margaret shifted uncomfortably. She clutched her worn Bible to her chest. Christy sent her an encouraging smile.
“Well,” Margaret said in a soft voice, “my husband, Curtis and I, we been married all o’ sixteen years. Got ourselves four children. Louise here, she’s the oldest. She’s fifteen. She loves to read, and she’s mighty good with the others.”
“That’s always nice,” Fairlight said helpfully. “I don’t know what I’d do without Clara and Zady to help out with my young’uns.”
Margaret managed a brief smile. “I got two other girls—Hannah, she’s eight, and Etta, she’s just the baby. Teethin’ somethin’ fierce, she is.”
“Letting her chew on a nice cold rag will help with that,” Miss Alice offered.
There was a long pause. Christy thought back to the many other Bible studies she’d been to. They’d been full of lively give-and- take—shared gossip and recipes and tears and laughter. Today, she could almost see the tension in the room.
“And then,” Margaret added, eyes trained on the women on the other side of the room, “there’s my son, John. He’s a good boy—just ten. Somebody shot him the other day. For no reason, ’ceptin’ they didn’t like the color of his skin.”
Her words hung in the air. Louise wiped away a tear.
“He’s a fine boy, I’m tellin’ you. All my family is,” Margaret continued. She opened her Bible and held it up for all to see.
“This here’s our family tree. All the names and baptisms wrote down proper-like. These was good people. ’Course, we can’t rightly know ’em all—some of our folks were sold off as slaves, never heard of again.” Tenderly, she passed the Bible to Christy. “Looky here, Miz Christy. These was good people, all of ’em.”
Christy traced her finger over the names on the yellowed page. “I’m sure they were, Margaret.”
“See there? William? That be Louise’s great-grandpa.” Margaret pointed a trembling finger at the name. “He run away from a plantation in Alabama, years before Abraham Lincoln done freed the slaves. Runnin’ in leg irons, bleedin’ and hungry. He got hisself to Tennessee, to the mountains. Found a little hidden-away mite of a place. ‘No bigger’n a tick’s toe,’ he used to say. Name o’ Cutter Gap. He was fevered and near to dyin’.”
Margaret took a deep breath. She looked at Swannie and Mary and the rest of the women. “A good woman from these parts saved Grandpa William. She hid him in a cave, brought him food, and tended to his wounds. She got herself a saw and took them leg irons off her own self. Without her, Grandpa William would have died. And that good woman she also gave him that there Bible and sent him off to freedom, she did.”
“Who was this woman, Margaret?” Miss Alice asked.
“She never did give her name. Lots of folks back then used nicknames to protect themselves. Helpin’ slaves was a crime. It was right dangerous. And it was mighty brave.”
Christy studied the top of the page. There was a simple inscription:
Godspeed, William.
Birdy
“That’s why we come here to Cutter Gap,” Margaret said, her voice choked. “We knew the stories Grandpa William used to tell. We knew this had to be a place full o’ good people. But we was wrong.”
She leapt from her chair, pulling the Bible out of Christy’s hands.
“Margaret,” Christy pleaded, “please stay—”
“No, Miz Christy. Louise and me, we know we ain’t wanted here. We’ll read our Bible at home. I figure the Lord’ll hear us just as clear from there.”