I awoke to find Miss Alice sitting beside me. I was holding my teddy bear in my arms. I felt like I was ten years old. She smiled at me.
"How long have I been asleep?" I asked.
"All yesterday afternoon, last night, and some this morning." She said. "But thee needed the rest." I looked down to find that I still had on the dress that I had worn to the funeral.
"How does thou feel?"
"Better." I said. "But George?"
"He is fine," she assured me. "He was suppose to talk to some doctors early this morning about physical therapy. Don't worry--Neil and David are there with him."
"Christy, we need to talk about thy future. We need to talk about whether or not thee will return to Cutter Gap?"
Her words stunned me; yet, Miss Alice was right. What was going to become of my future? Everything that I had planned suddenly lay broken before me with no hopes of repair. I had new responsibilities. Nothing was the same; my whole life had changed in an instant. Cutter Gap? Would I ever be able to return to my children? How could I with George?
Miss Alice took my hand. "I'm sorry Christy. I did not mean to burden thy already troubled mind with more troubles. But I wanted thee to know that I am here to help thee if thee needs me."
I smiled at her. "It's okay, Miss Alice," I shook my head. "You are right. I have a lot to think about." I sighed heavily. A great weight lay across my shoulders. "I suppose my return to Cutter Gap depends on George. But I don't know Miss Alice. I feel so lost."
"Thee has been thinking a lot about God?"
How did she do it? How did she know what I was thinking?
"Yes." I admitted.
"And what has thou discovered?"
"I don't know Miss Alice. I don't know anymore."
"Bad things happen, Christy, it doesn't mean that God doesn't care."
Miss Alice wrapped me in one of her meaningful silences. In its warmth, I found no uneasiness, nor did I seek to fill it with ill fitting words, for in her silence, I found only peace and reflection. After a time she put her finger to her lips to cover her smile. Her smile seemed to be more from pride than happiness. "Thee mustn't struggle so, my dear Christy," she said. "God will provide the answers thee seeks. Thee only needs to listen with thy heart."
She stood up and presented my worn teddy bear back to me. "Now, I am going down stairs to fix thee something to eat. Thee has received many letters and cards. I have put them here on thy nightstand. Thee can read some while I go to prepare thy breakfast."
I found a pile of envelopes in a silver tray. "Thank you," I said with a smile. And Miss Alice left the room. When she did I picked up the pile of envelopes. Most were fancy linen envelopes with wax seals across their backs. But one envelope struck my fancy, for it was made of a low-grade paper and did not have a formal appearance. With the society restraints in Asheville, I wondered who could have sent it. I turned it over and opened it.
The letter was from Margaret MacNeill. It read:
Dear Miss Huddleston:
I am truly sorry to hear of your sad news. I wanted so much to bring you flowers or something of cheer as you had done for me on a day when I felt lower than ever before. I have never met anyone like you. You gave your friendship to me even though I did nothing to deserve it; and while I do not understand it, I am grateful for it. Under the circumstances, we should hate one another; yet, I can not bring myself to hate you. I have tried. It seems that you are the first friend I have had in a long, long time. I hate to think you are sad. As I could not send flowers, I thought to send you these two poems. Percy Bysshe Shelley wrote both. They are two of my favorites. I hope they bring some comfort to you.
Your friend,
Margaret
"The Flower that Smiles Today"
The flower that smiles today
Tomorrow dies;
All that we wish to stay
Tempts and then flies;
What is this world's delight?
Lightning, that mocks the night,
Breif even as bright.--
Virtue, how frail it is!--
Freindship, how rare!--
Love, how it sells poor bliss
For proud despair!
But these though soon they fall,
Survive their joy, and all
Which ours we call.--
Whilst skies are blue and bright,
Whilst flowers are gay,
Whilest eyes that change ere night
Make glad the day;
Whilst yet the calm hours creep,
Dream thou--and from thy sleep
Then wake to weep.
"A Dirge"
Rough wind, that moans loud
Grief too sad for song;
Wild wind, when sullen cloud
Knells all the night long;
Sad storm, whose tears are vain,
Bare woods, whose branches strain,
Deep caves and dreary main,--
Wail, for the world's wrong!
I had tears in my eyes after I had read her letter. I could not believe it. I read it again. It seemed so unlike her; yet there it was in beautiful blue ink. I had always felt that there was something fragile about Margaret, something exquisite beneath her tough exterior. Maybe God had led me to her that day.
The door to my room opened, and Neil walked inside. "How's my patient feeling today?" He asked with a grin. His reddish-brown hair was disheveled and a familiar curl fell over his face. I stared at him unable to speak.
He looked at me with concern. "What is it?" His eyes swept over my face. Then he smiled. "You aren't angry at me for giving you that sedative are you?"
No words came to me. What was I supposed to say? When I looked at him, I saw Margaret. Her letter was still in my hands, and within the letter lay the essence of why Neil MacNeill had married her. In that letter was the answer to why he had handed me the lavender silk dress with sadness on his face. In that letter, I had found the little girl who had crossed a schoolyard to help a friend. I sat speechless.