Midnight Rescue / The Proposal / Christy's Choice (20 page)

“Actually, I've noticed the difference myself,” David said. “When I teach the Bible and math classes, the children are more organized than I am these days. Yesterday afternoon we were working on multiplication, and John Spencer actually suggested I could use my time more efficiently if I divided the class into groups, according to ability.”

“I have to admit, I'm glad to have Vella acting as chair monitor. I haven't sat on an egg all week!” Christy paused. She could hear the water lapping gently at the rocky shore. “Sometimes I think my blindness may be a blessing in disguise. I've learned a few things since losing my sight.”

“Well, how wrong I can be, I suppose. I was so sure the only way to succeed at teaching was to do it all myself. Anything less would have been an admission of failure. But my pride and stubborness were wrong. I should have relied on God and my friends. It wasn't so hard to let others help me after all.”

“Miss Alice says the doctor thinks it's time to remove your bandages,” David said softly.

Christy nodded. “He's coming tomorrow morning. You know, I think I'm prepared, David. No matter what happens. If my sight never returns, I truly believe I can accept it and move on with my life.”

David cleared his throat. “Christy, there's something I wanted to mention to you. I heard about that walk in the woods you took with Dr. MacNeill, and I—” He paused. “Well, I just don't think that sort of thing is appropriate, now that you're engaged.”

“Appropriate?” Christy echoed.

“It just doesn't look right. You understand.”

“I'm not sure I do, actually.” Christy hesitated. There was something else she wanted to say, but she simply didn't know how to begin.

“Miss Alice said something to me, David, after I accepted your proposal. She said it was important to be sure I was doing it for the right reasons.”

“The right reasons,” David repeated. He let go of her hand. She heard him scoop up a handful of stones. A moment later, she heard one skip lightly over the surface of the pond.

“I'm not sure . . . I'm not sure I made my decision for all the right reasons, David. I'm afraid maybe I was trying to prove something to myself. I wanted to prove that nothing had changed.”

Another stone dropped into the water. “So,” David said, his voice a whisper, “you're saying you don't love me?”

“I care for you deeply, David. I'm happy and content when I'm with you. I feel safe when I'm with you. But I'm not sure that's all there is to love.”

“You're calling off the engagement,” David said flatly.

Christy bit her lip. “For now. Just for now, until I can be sure about my reasons. I don't want you to marry me out of pity. And I don't want to marry you just to prove that my blindness hasn't changed me. The truth is, I
have
changed. But I'm beginning to accept that. Teaching this week, with the children pitching in, has helped me to see that I don't have to prove anything. The 'speriment, as Creed puts it, is over, I suppose.”

“And you expect me to just accept that calmly? You betrayed me, Christy! You lied to me about how you felt!”

“I didn't lie, David. I just didn't know
what
I felt. I thought it was love. Maybe . . .” She took a shuddery breath. “Maybe it still can be. But I know I need more time. I was wrong about teaching, David. I don't want to be wrong about marriage, too. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me.”

“I can forgive,” David said angrily. “I'm just not sure I can forget.”

“Now, I don't want you to expect too much,” Doctor MacNeill cautioned Christy the following morning. “All the windows are covered, so it's quite dark in this living room. Assuming you can see anything, it's going to take awhile for your eyes to adjust.”

“Assuming I can see anything,” Christy repeated with a smile. She could tell that Doctor MacNeill and the others were even more nervous than she was. She felt oddly calm. There was a great comfort in knowing that whatever happened, she was prepared to deal with it.

She heard the mission door open. “Am I too late?”

“David!” Christy cried. She was surprised he'd come. They hadn't spoken since yesterday. “I'm so glad you're here.”

“Of course I'm here,” he said softly.

“It's almost time for the great unveiling,” Christy said.

“How she can joke at a time like this is beyond me,” Mrs. Grantland muttered. “I'd be a nervous wreck.”

“This will be like the other times I've changed your bandages,” the doctor said to Christy. “Except that this time, I'll remove the dressing over your eyes, and I want you to very gradually open them.”

“Wait a second, Doc,” Ruby Mae said. Christy heard shuffling and the sound of furniture being moved.

“What
are
you doing, Ruby Mae?” Miss Alice asked.

“Movin' my chair up front, so as I can be the first thing Miz Christy sees.”

Christy laughed. “Well, what are we waiting for, Doctor? I've dearly missed the sight of Ruby Mae's bright red hair.”

Doctor MacNeill put a hand on her shoulder. “I don't want you to get your hopes up, Christy. There's still some swelling. It may be too soon . . .”

“I understand. Really I do,” Christy assured him. Slowly the doctor began to unwrap her bandages. Christy could feel his fingers trembling.

At last the gauze that had been wrapped around her head was off, and all that remained were two large pieces of cotton dressing over her eyes.

“How do I look so far?” Christy asked.

“Pretty black and blue around your eyes,” Ruby Mae reported.

“Kinda yellow and green, too,” Creed added. “It's a mighty fine bruise, Teacher.”

“All right, now, Christy,” the doctor said. “I'm going to remove the cotton. The area around your eyes is still a bit swollen, so there may be some pain when you open them.”

“Whatever happens,” Christy said, “I want to thank you all for helping me through this.”

“Here we go, then,” the doctor said.

She felt the rough tips of his fingers as he gently pulled away the cotton. Her eyes felt strange, but she knew that was just because of the swelling.

Christy swallowed past the tight lump in her throat. Slowly she willed herself to raise her lids. Nothing. There was nothing at all, nothing but darkness.

She took a deep breath. It was all right. She was going to be all right, no matter what.

It surprised her, how easily the feeling of peace and acceptance came to her.

“Well?” Ruby Mae asked in a hushed voice.

“I'm afraid I can't—”

Something changed. At the edges of the black mist, shadows formed and broke. The mist grew grayer, softer, like an early evening fog. “Wait,”

Christy whispered. “I see . . . I see light.”

“Blink slowly a couple times,” the doctor urged. “Don't try too hard to focus. Just let it happen.”

Christy waited. Not a sound could be heard. Were they all holding their breath, just like she was?

A round, gray, shadowy form moved. Another came into her field of vision and left. Beyond the shadows was a square of some kind. It was a lighter color, almost a pale yellow.

A window? Was that a window?

Christy let her lids drop. Her whole head ached with the effort.

“Maybe it's too soon,” Miss Alice suggested gently.

“No,” Christy said. “I want to try again.”

Again she opened her eyes. Shapes and colors blurred and danced. “Colors!” she whispered. “Blue! I see blue! And . . . red!”

She closed her eyes again and when she opened them, the tears began to fall.

It
was
red she'd seen. It was
very
red.

It was the tousled, wild, beautifully red hair of Miss Ruby Mae Morrison.

Christy turned her head slightly. She made out the slightly blurred image of a big man with a big smile.

“Neil,” she whispered, “I can see!”

Without thinking, she threw her arms around him. He held her close, and in a voice only she could hear, whispered, “I'm so glad, Christy, so very glad.”

She looked up and realized with a start that tears were streaming down the doctor's face.

She'd never seen him cry before. She hadn't even though it was possible, somehow.

“Oh, Miz Christy,” Ruby Mae exclaimed, “it's a miracle, is what it is. You must be feelin' as happy as a robin on the first day of spring!”

Christy pulled away from the doctor's arms, suddenly self-conscious. She
did
feel happy—gloriously happy—and so much more. What had made her throw her arms around Neil that way? Was it relief? Excitement? Or was it something more?

In an instant, everyone seemed to be hugging Christy at once. When she glanced over at the doctor, he was watching her with a tender smile as he wiped away his tears.

Fifteen

O
n Sunday afternoon after church, Miss Alice had a farewell picnic for Mrs. Grantland, who was leaving the next day. Everyone from Cutter Gap was there to enjoy good food and the beautiful spring afternoon. Each family brought something, however simple, to eat. Even Creed and Zach had contributed the three small fish they'd caught in the pond that morning before church.

Christy wandered the mission grounds as if she were walking through a spectacular dream. Doctor MacNeill had insisted that she wear a large sunbonnet to protect her eyes, but she could see all she needed to see. The grass had never been so green. The sky had never been so blue. Every sight, no matter how plain, was a gift.

But it was the faces of her students that held the most magic. Had Creed's freckles always been so charming? Had Little Burl's eyes always been so deeply blue? How had she missed so much? Never again would she look at her students without marveling at their precious and unique beauty.

“Having my sight return is such a blessing,” she said to Doctor MacNeill as they stood on the schoolhouse steps.

“I'm so glad for you, Christy.”

“I feel so . . . so lucky.”

“As it happens, so do I.” The doctor gave her a knowing smile. “I heard you called off your engagement to David.”

Christy gazed off at the mountain vista beyond the mission house. “I was doing it for the wrong reasons,” she said at last. “But I couldn't admit it to myself.” She shrugged. “Someone once told me I can be very stubborn.”

“A wise man, indeed.”

“I want to thank you, Neil.”

“For what?”

“For being there when I needed you. And for being honest with me.” Christy laughed. “I feel like I have so many thank-you's to say.” She pointed across the yard, where Mrs. Grantland and David were talking. “Take Mrs. Grantland, for instance.”

“David's mother? Are we talking about the same woman who disapproved of you from the start?”

“In spite of her feelings, though, she helped me. And I'm a better teacher because of her. Which reminds me . . . I have a presentation to make. Could you give me a hand?”

With the doctor's help, Christy gathered the children together and herded them over to Mrs. Grantland.

“My, what a procession!” Mrs. Grantland exclaimed. She gave David a questioning look. “What is all this about?”

“Ask Christy,” David said. “I have no idea.”

“Better yet,” Christy said, “ask the children. Creed, why don't you explain?”

“We got somethin' for you, Miz Grantland, 'cause you're a-goin',” Creed announced.

“We made it last week,” Ruby Mae added. “Instead of spelling lessons.”

Mrs. Grantland looked at Christy. “You needn't have made them do this.”

“I didn't. It was their idea completely.”

“It's sorta to say thanks with the 'speriment and all. 'Cause you helped us talk Teacher into stayin',” Creed explained.

“Who's the gift monitor?” Christy asked.

“Me!” came a tiny voice. Vella stepped through the crowd. In her hand was a simple wooden box.

“Here, Miz Grantland,” she said, holding out the box.

“Why! Why, it's a . . .” Mrs. Grantland examined the crude box, looking very confused. “Well, it's a fine box, children. And I will most certainly think of a use for it. Perhaps .

. . perhaps I could put pins and needles in it?

Or maybe—”

“Naw, Miz Grantland, it ain't for puttin' into,” said Zach. “It's already
got
stuff in it.”

“Oh! My mistake.” Mrs. Grantland opened the box. She stared at the bits of dried flowers and grasses inside. “Weeds!” she said, mustering a smile. “Well, I always say you can't have too many weeds—”

Christy could see how hard she was trying to be kind. “Smell them,” she urged. “I think you'll understand.”

Mrs. Grantland curled her lip a bit, but she bent toward the box and inhaled. Her eyes went wide.

“Roses!” she cried. “It smells just like roses!”

“It's dried wild rose petals and flowers and herbs and such,” John Spencer explained.

“We knowed you'd like 'em on account of you always stinking like roses,” Creed added helpfully.

Mrs. Grantland laughed, then breathed in the sweet-smelling box again. Christy was amazed to see a glimmer of tears in her eyes.

“In all my years of teaching, I've never had such a fine gift,” Mrs. Grantland said. “Thank you, children.”

“Thank you,” Christy said. “I don't know what I would have done without your help. To tell you the truth, to this day, I don't know why you helped me.”

Mrs. Grantland shrugged. “I don't know. I suppose I liked feeling useful. With David and Ida all grown up, and my husband gone, it was nice to be needed for a while.”

“You could always start teaching in Richmond again, Mother,” David suggested.