Granny worked her mouth, as if she were searching for words.
Mountie rushed over to her. “Granny, see my buttons?”
Granny squeezed the girl’s hand. “I see, child.” She looked over at Christy.
For the first time, Christy thought she saw something more than fear and anger there—maybe even a glimmer of respect.
But after a long moment, Granny turned away without another word, pulling Mountie along.
Mary turned back to Christy. “Thank you,” she whispered again, and then she, too, was gone.
On Monday morning, Christy made her way over the plank walk across the muddy school yard. She clutched her lesson plan to her chest. She’d worked on it all last evening, although she wasn’t sure why. How many children would even come today? Ten? Five? None?
Miss Alice and David had told her to keep showing up every day, no matter what. Eventually, they said, she’d have her students back. She hadn’t told them about her resignation letter. It was still crumpled in her pocket.
Inside the schoolroom, a fire already burned in the old stove. David had come in earlier to start it, although it was still strangely warm outside. Christy took the ball of paper out of her pocket and tossed it into the potbellied stove. It was a satisfying feeling, watching it crackle and burn, then vanish.
She went to her desk and set down her lesson book. She turned to the last roll call. Just a handful of students. She’d never have dreamed she’d miss having all sixty-seven of them, but she did.
As she started to sit, she noticed a familiar book lying open on her chair. It was her diary. She picked it up, smiling at the childish scrawl, marred by cross outs. It filled the page in huge letters, too big to ignore:
Miz Cristy is right trubling sometimz. She’z alwayz makin me wash my fas and brush the mous nests outa my har. And she gits thez feraway looks in her eyz sometimz. Won’t listn a-tall. Still and all even if shez fer shure cursd, I’m prowd and onered to call her my frend.
“Ain’t you never heard of a thing called privacy?”
Christy jumped, nearly dropping the diary. “Ruby Mae! I was just—”
Ruby Mae stood in the doorway, tapping her foot. “Just readin’ my Rose, I’m a-guessin’.”
“I apologize, really I do. It’s just that it was sitting right there, in my chair, where I could hardly miss it—”
“Imagine that.” Ruby Mae grinned. “Wonder how it got there?”
Christy closed the diary and passed it to Ruby Mae. “I’m proud and honored to call you my friend too,” she said softly.
Ruby Mae blushed and went quickly to one of the windows. Christy was surprised to see that she was no longer wearing Granny’s herbs.
“Ruby Mae,” Christy said, “do you think anyone will show up today?”
“Ain’t you looked outside?”
Christy joined her at the window. Coming up the hill she saw Lundy Taylor and Wraight Holt, trailed by several others. “The Holts are coming!” she exclaimed. “And there’s Isaak McHone!”
“Yes’m. I reckon you’ll have your hands full today. Everybody’s a-comin’.”
“But why? Why are they all coming back?”
Ruby Mae rolled her eyes. “It’s a good thing you got me to keep you up on Cove gossip, Miz Christy. Don’t you even know that Granny says you’re uncursed?”
“Uncursed?”
“Yes’m. As of yesterday. Everybody knows.”
“Except me. The one who’s cursed.” Christy narrowed her eyes. “I don’t believe it. You’re telling me Granny changed her mind about me? How is that possible?”
“Don’t rightly know. All I knows is she says she saw a sign yesterday.”
“A sign,” Christy repeated, torn between laughing and groaning and crying.
Just then she saw two little girls appear out of the dark woods. An old woman with a cane followed behind.
“It’s Mountie and Mary,” Christy whispered. “They’re back. They’re all coming back!” She hugged Ruby Mae until the girl pulled away, gasping for breath.
“Watch out for my braids, now,” Ruby Mae scolded. “You know it done took me half the night to get ’em just so.”
Granny paused at the edge of the schoolyard as Mary and Mountie dashed ahead. The old woman met Christy’s eyes and gave a small nod.
“So Granny saw a sign,” Christy said. “I wonder what it was?”
“Search me. But I heard it had something to do with four golden coins that fell from heaven.”
Christy looked at Ruby Mae. Ruby Mae looked back with a sly grin. “Can’t imagine what she meant, Miz Christy,” she said. “Can you?”
Catherine Marshall LeSourd (1914–1983), a New York Times bestselling author, is best known for her novel Christy. Based on the life of her mother, a teacher of mountain children in poverty-stricken Tennessee, Christy captured the hearts of millions and became a popular CBS television series. As her mother reminisced around the kitchen table at Evergreen Farm, Catherine probed for details and insights into the rugged lives of these Appalachian highlanders.
The Christy® of Cutter Gap series, based on the characters of the beloved novel, contains expanded adventures filled with romance, excitement, and intrigue.
Catherine also wrote Julie, a sweeping novel of love and adventure, courage and commitment, tragedy and triumph, in a Pennsylvania steel town during the Great Depression.
Catherine’s first husband, Peter Marshall, was Chaplain of the U.S. Senate, and her intimate biography of him, A Man Called Peter, became an international bestseller and Academy Award Nominated movie. The story shares the power of this dynamic man’s love for his God and for the woman he married.
A beloved inspirational writer and speaker, Catherine’s enduring career spanned four decades and six continents, and reached over 30 million readers.
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