Midnight Rescue / The Proposal / Christy's Choice

by Catherine Marshall

  It had all been decided at dinner last night. David felt it was for the best. Miss Alice had not expressed an opinion. Neither, for that matter, had Mrs. Grantland—much to Christy’s surprise.

  The knock on her door startled her. “Christy?”

  “Miss Alice! Come in. I thought you were teaching this morning.”

  “I’ve been called away. It seems Ben Pentland broke his ankle last night, and Neil’s busy over at the Holcombes with their sick baby. David’s in El Pano this morning, picking up that delivery of medicine, which leaves Mrs. Grantland.”

  “Mrs. Grantland!”

  “She’ll have to do. She’s all we’ve got.”

  “But—” Christy stopped herself. It was not her classroom, not anymore. Whatever her faults, Mrs. Grantland would make a much better teacher than Christy.

  “I must be off. Is there anything I can get you before I go?” Miss Alice asked.

  “Nothing. I’m fine. Be careful,” Christy said. She returned to the window. The bell in the steeple was ringing. The children would be running to their desks. Creed, of course, would be showing up late, no doubt with some new wild animal in tow. Ruby Mae would be giggling with Bessie about their latest crushes. John Spencer would have his head buried in the book of poetry Christy had lent him.

  Would Mrs. Grantland know to be gentle with Mountie? She embarrassed so easily. Would she know that Zach had trouble with his eyesight? Would she . . .

  Stop it, Christy told herself. They weren’t her students anymore. She was not their teacher anymore. And it was a good thing, too.

  She climbed back into bed. For a change, she could sleep in. She could sleep in every morning, from now on.

  She closed her eyes. The laughter of the children traveled on the breeze like the chatter of birds. Try as she might, she could not seem to sleep.

  It wasn’t until afternoon that Christy finally bothered to get dressed. Miss Ida had already stopped by twice to make sure she was all right.

  Christy was just lacing up her shoes when she heard a shy knock on the door. “I’m all right, Miss Ida,” Christy said. “I’m actually getting dressed, you’ll be pleased to hear.”

  “Teacher! It’s me, Creed!”

  “Creed!” Christy rushed to the door, fumbling for the knob. “Is something wrong at school?”

  “You just gotta come quick-like, Teacher! It’s plumb awful! Lundy Taylor’s done tied up Miz Grantland to her chair. And Sam Houston let the hogs loose in the schoolroom. And Ruby Mae and them girls are havin’ a square dance, a-singin’ and carryin’ on. I swear it’s true! It’s like the whole school’s gone plumb crazy!”

  Christy hesitated. What could she do? Maybe she should send Miss Ida instead. After last Friday, Christy knew better than to presume she could handle things alone. Still, if Mrs.

  Grantland really was tied up, that called for quick action.

  Christy allowed Creed to lead her by the hand across the yard to the schoolhouse. Strangely, as they got closer, she couldn’t hear any noise coming from the school. As a matter of fact, the place was eerily quiet.

  “I thought you said they were having a square dance.”

  “Yes’m, they is.” Creed hesitated. “I mean, they was, and if they isn’t, well, it’s probably ’cause that Lundy’s done somethin’ powerful mean.”

  “Creed.” Christy stopped and knelt down. “There’s something I need to say to you. I am very, very sorry that I broke the cane you made me. Sometimes even adults get angry and have temper tantrums. I felt angry at myself because I wasn’t able to protect you from Lundy. And I’m very sorry that I broke that beautiful cane. Can you forgive me?”

  “Shucks, Teacher. It weren’t nothin’. I have powerful good tantrums my own self.”

  Christy laughed.

  “Besides, we already made—”

  “What?”

  “Nothin’. Come on.” He tugged on her arm. “Miz Grantland’s gotta be goin’ plumb crazy by now.”

  Slowly, Christy ascended the wooden schoolhouse steps with Creed’s help. She thought she heard vague whisperings, but that was all.

  “Mrs. Grantland?” Christy called from the doorway. “Is everything all right?”

  Suddenly the entire room burst into song:

  For she’s a jolly good teacher,

  For she’s a jolly good teacher,

  For she’s a jolly good teacher,

  Which nobody can deny!

  Christy gasped. “What in the world?”

  “Sorry, Teacher,” Creed said. “I kinda told a fib to get you here. Well, a bunch o’ fibs. See, it’s a ’speriment.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “You will, soon enough.” It was Mrs. Grantland’s voice.

  “Mrs. Grantland? Are you . . . are you by any chance tied to a chair?”

  “Goodness, no. Although if I gave these hooligans half a chance, no doubt they’d try it. Creed, take Miss Christy to her seat.”

  She started toward her desk, but Christy felt a tug on her arm. “Follow me, Teacher. We done made some changes.”

  Christy followed Creed to her desk. No longer was it located on the raised platform she’d tripped on so often last week. Now it was on the lower level, where the students’ desks were.

  She sat down obediently. “Mrs. Grantland,” she began, “this is all very nice, but I really don’t—”

  “John Spencer, why don’t you begin?” Mrs. Grantland interrupted.

  Christy heard John clear his throat. “We got together and sort of come to the conclusion that we wasn’t helpin’ any with your experiment, Miz Christy,” he said. “We put together some ideas we kinda wanted to run by you.

  To start with, we got ourselves some—what was they called, Miz Grantland?”

  “Monitors.”

  “Yeah. We got us some monitors. First off is Ruby Mae Morrison. She’s the noise monitor, on account of she’s usually the one making it.”

  Everyone laughed.

  “My job is to get the class to hush, Miz Christy,” Ruby Mae announced. “And I aim to do it, too!”

  “Next off is Sam Houston,” John said. “He’s the hand monitor.”

  “Hand monitor?” Christy repeated.

  “I tell you who-all’s waving their hands, Teacher. And if you want, I can pick who answers, too. Like as not, I can tell who’s done homework and who’s just a-fakin’ it.”

  “Lizette is board monitor,” John continued, “on account of she’s got the best handwriting. ’Ceptin’ for you, Miz Christy. And I’m map monitor. On account of I know where all the states is.”

  Christy began to smile, in spite of herself. “Me! Don’t forget me!” came a loud, boy’s voice.

  Christy recognized it as Wraight Holt’s.

  “What’s your job, Wraight?” she asked.

  “I’m the recess monitor,” Wraight explained. “Which is most likely the most important monitorin’ goin’ on. I round up all the little ones when you says it’s time. And I break up all the fights.”

  “’Less’n he started ’em,” Lundy Taylor said. “Actually,” Mrs. Grantland broke in, “I think Mountie O’Teale has the most important job.”

  “And what might that be?” Christy asked.

  “I’m the bell monitor,” Mountie proclaimed in her gentle voice. “If’n Lundy does some bullyin’ or we all get too hard to handle, I get to pull the church bell so the preacher or Miss Alice can come a-runnin’.”

  “What about me?” tiny five-year-old Vella Holt demanded.

  “What is it you’re monitoring, Vella?”

  Christy asked.

  “I’m the chair monitor!” Vella exclaimed proudly. “I check it for eggs or tacks or anything else that might be a-lurkin’.”

  “There’s more, too,” Mrs. Grantland continued. “We’ve done some rearranging to make things easier. Your desk is off the platform, for one thing. And the desks are arranged so that all the children are in a semi-circle. I thought it might be easier for y
ou to address them that way. The children are seated alphabetically, too.”

  “Boys and girls together?” Christy cried. She hadn’t yet been able to convince the children to stop dividing up, with boys on one side and girls on the other.

  “It’s a mighty big favor to be askin’,” Creed said, “seein’ as I’m stuck next to Wanda Beck. But we did it for you, Teacher.”

  “Creed!” Sam Houston urged. “The present!”

  “I almost forgot!”

  Christy felt something placed in her lap. Instantly she knew. It was a new cane, even smoother and larger than the last one.

  “It’s beautiful, children,” Christy whispered. “I don’t know what to say.”

  All this planning, for her! It was so thoughtful, and she knew the children meant well. But what kind of teacher would she be, relying on her own students for such help?

  “Was this your doing, Mrs. Grantland?” Christy asked.

  “Quite the contrary. The children came up with the idea last Friday after you left. I just added some pointers.”

  “The thing is, Miz Christy,” John said, “we want to help make the experiment work. I mean, seein’ as we’re a part of it and all, it only seems right.”

  They were a part of it, Christy realized. She’d been so busy thinking about her own need to prove herself, she hadn’t thought about their need to be involved.

  “I’ve never seen such goings-on for a teacher,” Mrs. Grantland said. “All I ever got was an apple or two. Of course . . . maybe I didn’t give as much, either.”

  “I don’t know what to say,” Christy admitted. “Say you’ll do the ’speriment, Teacher,” Creed pleaded.

  Christy took a deep breath. This wasn’t how she’d wanted it to be. But then, maybe it was even better, in a way.

  “Get out your history books,” she announced, and the whole class cheered.

  Fourteen

  When school was over Friday, Christy asked David to go for a walk with her around Big Spoon Pond.

  “Hoping the engagement ring washed up on shore?” David teased as they walked past the water’s edge.

  “I wish I could find it,” Christy said. “Your mother would be so relieved. And it seems like the least I could do, after the way she helped me at school.”

  “I think she enjoyed feeling useful,” David said.

  “I still can’t get over how smoothly teaching went this week, David!” Christy gave an embarrassed laugh. “If I hadn’t let my stubborn pride keep me from asking for more help, I could have avoided a lot of pain.”

  “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 wr
apped 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.