by DiAnn Mills
“What are those?” Shana pointed out the uncurtained car window toward clumps of trees, some thirty feet high and more. Waxy white clusters shone brilliant against the gray branches. Her eyes felt enormous from trying to take in everything at once. Her ears rang with the songs of countless unidentified birds.
“Those?” Dr. Aldrich glanced in the direction she pointed. “Dogwood.” He tightened his hold on the wheel of the bucking vehicle. “According to legend, Jesus was crucified on a dogwood tree. The tree supposedly felt such terrible pain and shame, Jesus had compassion on it. Until then it had been a mighty tree. Jesus said never again would it grow to such large proportions that it could be put to such a use. It’s also said Jesus caused the four bracts—the modified leaves—beneath the small, greenish-white flowers to form in the shape of a cross. Then He put a spot of scarlet in the center to remind the world of His shed blood.” The doctor smiled sheepishly. “It’s just a legend, but I have to admit, I never see a dogwood without thinking about it.”
“That’s great. Are there other legends?” Wyatt wanted to know. Sun shone on his hair and turned it to molten gold.
Shana saw warm approval in Dr. Aldrich’s face before he replied, “Oh yes. See those redbuds? The ones with reddish-brown bark and heart-shaped leaves? They’re called Judas trees. Legends say after Judas betrayed Christ, he hanged himself on a redbud tree.”
Shana looked at the tall trees with the black-veined design on their trunks and shivered. “Don’t they bloom?”
“Earlier in the spring, before the leaves appear. They’re a sight to behold.” He smiled at his enthralled passengers. “Of course, before then you’ll see an autumn to remember. It’s one of my favorite times of year.” The winding, upward road grew steeper. Dr. Aldrich shifted to a lower gear. “We’re almost to the top of the hogback. Close your eyes and don’t open them until I tell you.”
Wyatt winked mischievously before obeying, then shut both eyes. Shana did the same. “You don’t need to tell us what we’re going to see,” Wyatt boasted. “Dad said the valley lies tucked in the folds of the hills like a cornhusk doll folded into a bit of leftover calico.”
Dr. Aldrich chuckled. “He did, did he? Sounds just like him.” The car slowed, chugged, and came to a stop where the road flattened. “I’m going to open the door and help you out. Keep your eyes closed,” he warned. The doctor suited action to his words and cleared his throat. “All right. Take a gander for yourselves.”
Shana opened her eyes. Blue haze that gave the Great Smokies their name shimmered in the distance. Thick forests composed of more than two hundred species of trees spread over the highest and most rugged portion of the Appalachian mountain chain. They stretched from where the watchers stood to farther than the keenest eye could see.
Long moments passed before she tore her gaze free from the horizon and reluctantly let it drift downward. A small feeling of dismay unnerved her for a moment. In spite of Arthur’s warning, she simply hadn’t been prepared. She and Wyatt had secretly decided passing years would surely have brought change, improvement. They had not. The westering sun, eager to retire for the night, ruthlessly exposed both the picturesqueness and shortcomings of the Alaskans’ new home. So had it done more than two decades ago when Wyatt’s father first stood on the hogback and looked into the Hollow.
Patches of corn and other vegetables snuggled up to log cabins in small cleared areas that feebly held back the looming, encroaching forests. Hounds bayed, their deep-throated cries clear in the still air. The laughter of children mingled high and sweet with the ring of pick and shovel on rock where men wrestled out stumps and cleared more land.
Shana involuntarily reached for Wyatt’s hand. Thank God he had come with her, no matter what his motives! His fingers tightened on hers and swept away some of the forlorn feeling in her heart. She firmed her lips and lifted her head to stare again at the mountains. Why mourn that the valley itself held poverty, hard work, apathy, when she had those glorious, ever-present ridges above her?
“ ‘I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills, from whence cometh my help,’ “she softly said.
Wyatt continued the quotation from Psalm 121. “‘My help cometh from the Lord, which made heaven and earth.’ ”
“My motto as well,” Dr. Aldrich told them. “Are you ready to go on? Go down, I should say.” He chuckled again.
Shana and Wyatt silently climbed into the car. Waves of weariness dulled the new nurse’s senses. They jumbled her impressions until only Wyatt and that mountaintop moment remained clearly in her mind. Down, down, down, the old car crawled. Here and there, figures in denim and calico raised curious faces. Men raised their hats. Women bobbed their heads. Children stared.
Dr. Aldrich waved to all. So did his passengers, but their host and sponsor didn’t stop the car. “Time enough later for you to meet the folk,” he told them. “Right now, you two look pretty done in.”
Wyatt yawned mightily. He grinned at Shana when she couldn’t help following suit with a yawn of her own. “Lead me to a bed. Any bed. Or a hunk of ground under a tree. It really doesn’t matter.”
“We can do a bit better than that,” Dr. Aldrich said dryly. “You’ll stay with me, at least for the present.” He motioned to a small whitewashed cabin at the near end of a large, cleared area. A short dogtrot, or covered passage, connected it to a similar, but larger cabin. “Our clinic,” he explained proudly.
Our clinic. Two small words that unequivocally welcomed and accepted Wyatt and Shana as partners against sickness. Wyatt straightened. A spark kindled in his blue eyes. Shana felt some of the fatigue drain from her body.
Dr. Aldrich didn’t stop but drove slowly over the dusty road that led past a few discouraged-looking buildings. Shana felt her lips twitch when she noticed a freshly painted sign over the door of the largest. “Mercantile” rather than “General Store” seemed a bit pretentious for such an aged building. On closer examination, she revised her first impression. Old and sleepy-looking it might be, but a neatly mended screen door kept out flies, and the windows on either side of the door shone brighter than sun after a lazy glacier.
“Is the store always this way—or is the shininess in our honor?” Wyatt mischievously asked. His eyes sparkled and Shana’s lips twitched in sympathy with his rising spirits.
“A little of both. The windows are always clean, in spite of the dusty road,” Dr. Aldrich told them. “The newly painted sign is definitely in your honor.” He grinned. “Actually, so is the sign itself. There’s never been one before. When the storekeeper put it up, it sure made a stir.” He laughed reminiscently. “Some folks ‘lowed it was purely pretty. Others said ‘twas all foolishness; there weren’t nary a body for miles around but who knew where the store was!” The doctor’s reproduction of his beloved mountaineers’ speech held no malice and his passengers laughed along with him.
They reached the far end of the clearing. Dr. Aldrich halted the car before a double cabin attached by the same covered dogtrot as his own cabin and the Hollow Clinic. Rough and unpainted, time had laid a kindly hand and mellowed the boards to weathered gray. Wild roses clambered up the supports of the communal porch, whose worn floor boards showed evidence of a recent scrubbing. Starched white curtains fluttered at the window of the cabins. Their coarse material fit their humble surroundings, yet bore mute witness to someone’s loving care. Twin water buckets rested on each end of the porch railings.
“Your new home, Nurse Shana,” Dr. Aldrich quietly told her. “The left-hand cabin. Emmeline Clark and her son Gideon share the one on the right. Good. She’s coming out now.”
Wyatt’s low, “What a beauty!” turned Shana’s fascinated gaze from the unexplored mysteries of her new dwelling place to the young woman slowly coming down the steps. She mentally echoed Wyatt’s admiring appraisal. Emmeline’s coronet of pale-gold hair framed a pure oval face, shy blue eyes, and a hesitant smile that silently pleaded please like me. Her full-skirted, blue-sprigged calico dress failed to h
ide high-arched, shapely bare feet but stole not one whit from her natural dignity, as she gracefully walked toward Dr. Aldrich and the newcomers.
A small, male replica peered from the shelter of his mother’s arms. Shana judged him to be about two. She glanced at Wyatt, who hadn’t taken his gaze from Emmeline since she first appeared. Something sharp and hurtful thrust into Shana’s heart. Never had she seen Wyatt show interest in any girl except herself. Now he looked thunderstruck. As well he might, jealousy taunted. This mountain girl is as lovely as the wild rose blooming over the doorway.
Dr. Aldrich beamed and said, “Emmeline, this is Nurse Shana. I know you’ll be friends.”
“I’d admire to,” Emmeline replied in a low, musical voice. “Folks are all so glad you came. Gideon hardly ever cries. With the dogtrot between, we won’t be a bother to you.” She held out a slim, workworn hand.
Shana marveled. No wonder the doctor had coveted this girl’s services. Her smile alone could bring as much healing as all the medicine in his black bag! She pressed Emmeline’s hand and spoke more to the wistfulness in the other girl’s eyes than to what she had said. “I am so glad we’ll be living together.” She glanced at the dogtrot and laughed. “I mean, be neighbors. Did you make the curtains and plant the rose?”
Emmeline’s face lighted up as if a hundred candles flamed behind her eyes. Her laugh reminded Shana of a waterfall in spring. “The rose has been there as long as the cabins. I fixed up inside for you. Folks gave what they could. Would you like to see?”
Shana respected her the more for making no apologies. “Very much.”
Wyatt found his tongue. “Not before I meet this young lady,” he objected. “I’m Wyatt Baldwin. I’m not a doctor or a nurse, but I’m learning.”
Emmeline turned her smile on him. The sword in Shana’s heart thrust deeper at the delight in Wyatt’s face when the girl said, “Many a man and woman here remember your doctor pappy and what he did for their kinfolk. I welcome you.” She curtseyed quaintly, then turned back to the other girl, eyes eager. “Come and see, Nurse.” Still holding Gideon, she mounted the steps, her slender back straight as a soldier at attention.
Shana crooned with pleasure when she stepped inside the cabin. Plain, whitewashed walls gave a feeling of restfulness. The wood stove had been polished to within an inch of its life. A rag rug covered most of the scrubbed floorboards. Packing boxes nailed to the wall served as cupboards and hid behind plain white curtains that matched those at the window. An unmatched collection of freshly washed dishes sparkled on the shelves. A bright afghan mercifully hid the sagging sofa’s defects.
Shana peeked into a small, curtained alcove and exclaimed in delight. It contained a narrow bed covered with the most beautiful red-and-white patchwork quilt Shana had ever seen. Another braided rug lay beside the cot. A small table held a shiny kerosene lamp, well-filled and artistically shaded by a rose-red paper shade. A coarse linen runner covered the top of an old chest of drawers on which stood a plain white pitcher and bowl.
Shana thought how little those in the Hollow had, how they could ill afford to give. She blinked to keep back a rush of emotion. She turned to Emmeline. “It’s beautiful. I can never thank you enough.”
The mountain girl’s eyes widened. One hand absently patted her son’s shining blond hair. After a moment she softly said, “There’s no need to be thankin’ us. It’s we who are beholden.”
Shana valiantly blinked back tears at the response. Barefoot and simple, Emmeline Clark, child of the woods, might be, yet Shana realized the girl’s heart was as pure as mountain snow.
Chapter 7
Strange as it might seem, growing up in Tarnigan gave Shana Clifton and Wyatt Baldwin a boost in adjusting to life in the Hollow. Thousands of miles and customs separated the two places, yet they shared a common need: Residents had to be both self-reliant and dependent on neighbors in order to survive. Any doubt or suspicion on the part of those who lived in and around “the Holler” soon vanished like fog on a brilliant day.
Shana’s first day in the Hollow began with a rooster blasting the morning air with his cock-a-doodle-doo. His arrogant stance and loud crowing clearly implied the bird’s belief that the sun got up every morning just to hear him.
Shana stirred, pulled her covers higher against the cool air coming in the wide-open, screened window. Dr. Aldrich had told her folks in the Hollow never locked doors or windows. His eyes twinkled when he said, “It’s considered downright unneighborly, insulting, even.”
“You don’t have crime?”
“A few moonshiners in the hills. A mild feud or two that breaks out mostly in shouting matches or rivalry at rifle contests. Nothing that will touch you. Just stay on the main trails if you have to visit patients without me. Folks can be a mite touchy about strangers wandering around where there might be a still.”
The rooster crowed again, louder and more insistent this time.
“All right. I’m getting up.” Shana threw a warm flannel robe over her nightgown, thrust her feet into deerskin moccasins that brought back memories of home, and pattered from alcove to sitting room. She touched a match to the already-laid fire and watched the sweet-smelling wood shavings burst into flames, then hopped back in bed until the cabin warmed.
A smile of pleasure curled her lips, remembering how Emmeline suggested Shana lay her morning fire the night before. “That way it won’t take near as long to warm up your cabin,” she explained. “‘Course in winter, you’ll put in a backlog and keep a fire all night. It gets cold here.”
Shana laughed outright. “Not as cold as in Tarnigan. I’ve run with my sled dog Kobuk in weather that’s far below zero.”
Emmeline’s blue eyes opened wide. They reminded Shana of the deep blue shadows found in the massive Alaskan glaciers. Or cloudless summer skies. “How excitin’ that must be! I’ve never been anywhere much except the Hollow and to Asheville a few times.” Her face shadowed. She started to speak, then broke off.
Shana saw hunger in the other girl’s face. “What is it, Emmeline?”
“I want to be somebody, somethin’ more than what I am.”
The eternal cry. The germ of an idea popped into Shana’s mind. “If given a choice, what would you like to do?”
Emmeline didn’t hesitate. “Be a nurse. Like you. If I hadn’t married so young, I’d have learned what I needed to know from Doc Aldrich. I still want to, but how can I?” She hugged Gideon so fiercely he looked up at her in surprise and wiggled to get free. “It takes all my strength just to raise enough crops to keep body and soul together and care for my boy.”
“Do you regret marrying young?”
A poignant light came to Emmeline’s sensitive face. “No. I loved Gideon’s pa always. ‘Twas natural for us to marry soon as we got old enough. We were happy. When my man died, I had our son.” She stroked Gideon’s pale gold curls. “Nurse Shana, I want better for him. I want him to have more than a mule and a patch of worn-out land. I’d do anythin’ to get it for him.”
For the first time, Shana felt the power having more than enough can bring. “Is there a woman here who would look after Gideon so you could work with Dr. Aldrich and Wyatt and me?”
Clear red stained Emmeline’s cheeks. “I reckon, but I’d be too proud to ask unless I could offer them a sum. Doc Aldrich don’t know that though.”
Shana touched the other girl’s hand. “I inherited money. More than I need. I’ve already spoken to Dr. Aldrich about sending for medical equipment the clinic doesn’t have. Emmeline, will you let me pay for Gideon’s care while you learn nursing?” She held her breath. In the time she had been in the Hollow, Shana had learned the mountain people found it far easier to give than to take, or be “beholden” to others.
Before Emmeline could answer, Shana quickly added, “You know God called me to North Carolina. It may be for the rest of my life.” Her lips quivered at the thought of permanent separation from Tarnigan. “On the other hand, it may be only for a time. Don’
t you see? Dr. Aldrich can’t live forever. Should God call me away, the people here will have no medical help, unless someone is trained. You could also earn money to help with your dreams for Gideon.”
Generations of ancestors who possessed little more than pride warred with the truth of what Shana had said. The struggle showed in Emmeline’s face. At last she let her son slide to the floor, and rose in quiet dignity. “There’s a granny-woman among my kinfolk who’ll be glad to keep my boy. She said so long ago, but I couldn’t bring myself to let her unless I could pay his way.” The flush receded from her face. Her eyes shone with anticipation. “If you’re sure you want to do this, I’m beholden.”
“I do, with all my heart.”
Emmeline gave a little cry and pressed Shana’s hand to her cheek. “You won’t be sorry. I’ll make you proud.” She caught Gideon up and ran out, happy tears streaming from her glittering eyes.
News that the Widow Clark was aimin’ to study medicine with Doc Aldrich and his fotched-on helpers hit the Hollow like a bomb. As usual, the inhabitants reacted in different ways. Some thought it a good idea. Others, notably the unmarried men, found it a pure shame. Such a pretty widow could get any man she wanted with the snap of her fingers. Hadn’t some of them already said so to her face and offered to be pa to her boy?
At Shana’s insistence, Granny King kept mum about the fact she would receive a small sum for keeping Gideon. “I don’t mind buttonin’ my lip,” she told the new nurse. “Some folks might think it was right down onneighborly to take money for watchin’ a young’un.” She sighed. “Truth is, hit’s an answer to prayer. Gettin’ old in the Hollow ain’t easy and I never been one to take charity.”
“This certainly isn’t charity,” Shana reassured. She’d fallen in love with the little old lady the first time she met her. “You’re allowing Emmeline to gain knowledge that can help the whole Hollow, maybe even save lives.”