It may interest you to know, Reverend, that the bells in our steeple were cast by the same foundry that fashioned the Liberty Bell.” Mr. Barclay, Lance’s father, had David by the arm and was showing him around the church. They were waiting for all the members of the businessmen’s association to assemble in a meeting room off the church.
Lance was with them, too. Christy was careful to avoid seeming friendly to either David or Lance. The last thing she needed was to have either man feeling jealous.
“We have almost fifteen hundred in our congregation now,” Mr. Barclay said. “Many of the most prominent citizens of Asheville. You’ll meet some wealthy and influential men here tonight.”
Christy felt a little sorry for David. Mr. Barclay was justly proud of the church, but she worried that David might be feeling a little overwhelmed.
“That must be an awesome burden for your pastor,” David said. “Our congregation is quite a bit smaller. In fact, I believe we could fit most of them in the first two pews of this church and have room left over.”
“Don’t you find it frustrating sometimes, having so small a flock, when you are obviously such a bright and energetic young man?” Mr. Barclay asked. “There’s always a place for a smart fellow like yourself here.”
“I feel that God led me to do His work at the Cutter Gap mission, Mr. Barclay.” David laughed easily. “Perhaps the Lord has a less complimentary opinion of my abilities than you have.”
“In any event,” Lance said smoothly, “no congregation could ever seem poor that had Miss Huddleston as a member.” He gave a little bow in Christy’s direction.
“Indeed,” David agreed, a little frostily.
Christy pretended not to have heard either man.
Besides, her thoughts were on more serious matters. She was troubled by David’s easy confidence that he was doing the right thing by staying at the mission. How could David be so sure of his calling? She wished she could be that confident.
Christy looked around at the church. She had been baptized in this church. She had first taken Holy Communion in this church.
She thought of the church in the mountains. It was easy to recall every detail, since it was also her schoolroom. The altar was her desk. The pews were supplemented with her student’s desks. And the hogs snorted in the mud beneath the building on Sundays, the same as every other day.
“I believe we are about ready, Christy,” Lance said, breaking into her thoughts.
“Oh. I’m sorry, I guess I was daydreaming.” “Now, don’t be nervous,” Mr. Barclay counseled. “These men all want to hear what you and Reverend Grantland have to say. You know that we hope to reach out to our own poor, right here in Asheville. You two are the experts, so we’ll listen very carefully.”
The meeting consisted of almost a hundred men, all wearing conservative business suits and looking rather intimidating. After David spoke for a few minutes, explaining the purpose of the mission and its importance to the mountain folk, it was Christy’s turn. She said a quick, silent prayer, then walked shakily to the podium.
She faced a sea of whiskers and waistcoats and skeptical looks. Then she saw Lance’s face. He smiled encouragingly. And David gave her a little wink.
“Gentlemen, my name is Christy Huddleston. I suppose some of you know my family. We—”
“Speak up!” someone yelled out. “I can’t hear her.”
In a louder voice, Christy went on. “My name is Christy Huddleston. I am the teacher at the mission school of Cutter Gap. We have sixty-seven students, all in one classroom. I teach all the subjects except math and Bible studies, which Reverend Grantland takes care of. The students range across all ages. Some are almost as old as I am. A few had some schooling before the mission opened. Others had very little or none at all.”
For ten minutes Christy told them all she could think of about the school and the students. But soon she began to wonder whether she was simply rambling on. She faltered.
“I . . . I don’t know what else I can tell you,” she said.
An old gentleman raised his voice. “Do you think that similar schools, combining all sorts of different students, could be made to work in other places?”
Christy shrugged. “I’m sure they could. I believe that most children want to learn, given the chance. It’s not just a matter of having new books and desks and fine buildings . . . although we could certainly use those,” she added with a self-conscious laugh. “But the truly important thing is simply to give the children the chance to learn. They will seldom disappoint you.”
Mr. Barclay stood and joined her on the podium. “As you know, Miss Huddleston, we’ve been discussing the possibility of establishing a sort of mission to the many poor and uneducated families that have come to Asheville to work in the mills. Many have come down from the mountains in search of work. Others are from foreign countries and speak very little English. They need medical care and a school for their children.”
“Yes, I think it sounds like a wonderful idea,” Christy said enthusiastically.
“We have already put up a school building. But a school needs more than a building and desks. More, even, than students, be they ever so willing to learn. A school needs a teacher.”
Christy tried to keep a smile plastered on her face. She knew what was coming next. She caught David’s eye and could tell that he was filled with concern.
“A school needs a teacher,” Mr. Barclay repeated. “One with experience in doing a great deal with very little. A teacher accustomed to working almost alone. A teacher with experience in large classrooms full of diverse children. In short, Miss Huddleston, what our school needs is you.”
ppp
After the meeting was over, David and Christy walked back to her parents’ home.
For a while, they were silent. Christy tried not to think, but simply enjoy the evening, as lights came on in the windows of the houses they passed and street lights glowed yellow. A mix of automobiles and horse-drawn wagons passed, dodging around the careening streetcars. Other couples were out walking as well. They would smile politely, the gentlemen tipping their hats. The moon was just appearing in a violet sky.
“I suppose I’ll have to consider how the mission will replace you,” David said at last. He sounded tense and clipped.
“What?” Christy said in surprise.
“I need to consider finding a teacher to replace you,” David said. “I assume you will accept their offer.”
“Well, I don’t assume any such thing,” Christy said.
“Nonsense,” David said with surprising force. “The offer has everything in its favor. You would have a beautiful new classroom. Those gentlemen will see that you have all the school books and supplies you could ever want. No more sharing battered books with half the pages gone. No more worrying that you’ll run out of everything. No more hostile, suspicious community. No more dealing with superstition and foolishness. No more hogs under the classroom.”
“Do you honestly believe I would be swayed by new books?”
David smiled crookedly. “No,” he admitted. “I don’t think you could be swayed by a promise of new books. But I think you could be swayed by the chance to do important work, while being close to your family and friends.”
“David, I don’t know what to do,” Christy admitted.
“You would be rid of me, if you stayed here.”
Christy stopped walking. She put her hand on David’s arm. “David, whatever I do, you have to know one thing—I have no desire to be rid of you.”
“Really?” he asked. “You turned down my offer of marriage, after all.”
“That was for other reasons,” Christy said. “And I never said no. I just said I wasn’t ready.”
“And now you are ready to return to Asheville,” he said bitterly.
“David, I just don’t know. I . . . I felt that God led me to Cutter Gap. Might He not be leading me back here now?”
David hung his head. “I’ve wondered that same thing,” he admitted. “Is this your true mission? To be here and help the community where you grew up? To do God’s work and still have your family around you?” He shook his head. “There’s no doubt that this school for the mill workers is a wonderful idea. And there’s no doubt that you would be the best possible teacher they could ever hope to have. Am I just putting my own selfish interests ahead of God’s will?”
“How can I know what is right?” Christy pleaded with him. “Tell me, David, and I will do whatever you decide.”
David laughed gently. “No, Christy. It’s not my decision to make, much as I would like to have you return with me to Cutter Gap. It is your decision. God will guide you.”
Christy looked off toward the west. The sun had set behind the Blue Ridge Mountains, turning them into a dark silhouette. They seemed so far away, so alien.
It would be cold at the mission right now. If she were there, she would be grading papers, squinting in the dim light of the tiny lamp she allowed herself. There would be no big roaring fire, just a small one on the coldest nights. The shadows in the trees would be close about, isolating the mission. She would go to her lumpy, cold, bed and listen to the wind and the howls of distant wolves. And she would never be sure that she was safe from the dangerous moonshiners who plied their trade in the night.
Here there was light. Light, everywhere she looked. Her mother would have a late supper of roast beef and fresh-baked bread and sharp cheese waiting for her when she got home. Afterward, they would sit by a cheery fire and read or talk. And then she would go up to a feather bed, secure and peaceful.
Was it necessary to suffer in order to do good? No, that was vanity. The children of the mill workers needed a teacher just as much as the children of the mountains.
David had said that God would give her guidance. She hoped he was right. Tomorrow morning they were all to take the train back to El Pano, and then it would be on to Cutter Gap.
Whatever she decided to do, she would be on that train. The school year was not over yet. And she would at least have to say goodbye.