After George's morning therapy, we went to the train station to buy our tickets. I wanted something tangible to prove that we were going back to Cutter Gap. It was a hot day, but George visibly trembled as we stood in line.
"George, oh George, I am so sorry. I had not even thought about what this train ride would be like for you. How could I be so insensitive? We can go to Cutter Gap another way if you would rather."
"No, Christy," he said. "I can not stop getting on trains just because I am afraid. I just have to get over it. I have to face it. You know what Father would say--"
"If you fall off a horse you have to get right back on." We said this together as if we had rehearsed it. Then we laughed. George's trembling seemed to abate somewhat, but I watched him out of the corner of my eye. Suddenly, I thought that I had not bothered to ask him about the accident. I had not asked him to tell me what happened that day, or even offered to listen if he wanted to talk about it. I had been afraid to ask him. I feared that it would upset him; but, as I stood there in line, I realized that I was afraid for myself too. I did not want to hear gruesome details that would haunt me forever.
When it was our turn at the window, I turned to George and asked him. "Are you sure? We can find another way if you want." He stood there and stared back at me. His eyes were bowed with anxiety.
"Miss, we have people waiting behind you." The man at the window said.
I paid no attention to him; I continued watching George. George took a deep breath and finally said. "Yes, I am sure."
I turned to the man at the window. "Two one-way tickets to El Pano," I said.
************************
After I dropped George off at the hospital for evening therapy, I went to Uncle John's house.
"What? You can't take George to Cutter Gap!" Uncle John said. We sat in his study. Books and mahogany shelves surrounded us. The room felt stuffy. We were sipping lemonade. Uncle John put his glass down on a coaster and moved to the edge of his chair.
"That is what George wants to do." I said.
"Christy, George is only 14 years old. He can't possibly know what is best."
"I am sorry to disagree with you. You know that I respect your opinion, John, but I think George does know what is best." I tried to keep my voice calm and confident. "I think that Cutter Gap would accept George far faster than the high society of Asheville. You don't know the people of the cove. You have never been there. The mountain people understand suffering. They can sympathize with it. They would not offer the pity that is already drowning George here."
"Christy. I understand why you want to go back. I want you to be able to go back to your mission. But taking George, is a mistake."
"I disagree."
"What kind of education can he get there?"
I crossed my arms. I was not going to budge.
"You ARE stubborn." He said. "And what about his medical needs." He continued. "He is going to need a good doctor."
"Dr. MacNeill is the finest doctor I know!"
John's face appeared agitated, and he studied my eyes carefully. "This is not what your father would have wanted for George."
This statement stung me, but I did not flinch. "I'm sure that he would not have wanted George to lose his leg either, but things happen. We have to make the best of it and move on. George is a different person now. Father never knew George as he is now."
"And how is he now?"
"Depressed, tired, and hopeful--all at the same time."
"Christy. I think you are making a mistake, but you know I will support you with what ever you decide."
I smiled at John. "Thank you," I said.
His thin mustache lifted as his lips formed a smile. "And what about the house?"
"At first we thought that we would sell it. I thought it would be good to put the money in an account for George's college, but since Mother and Father have already done that, we thought that we would keep it." I paused to take a sip of lemonade. Polly had made it a little too sour for me. My lips puckered each time I took a sip. "I don't feel like going through Mother and Father's things just yet. I am not ready for that and neither is George. I intended for us to go to Cutter Gap on a trial basis. I don't want to cut all ties with Asheville until I am sure that this is what will be best for George. I talked to Rev. Thompson, yesterday. We are going to let the church use the house for meetings and dinners. In exchange, they will keep the house in order."
Uncle John sank back into his seat, and his smile grew. His mustache was now stretched across his face. He shook his head. "I underestimated you, Christy Huddleston." He said. "I thought that you were being rash and hasty with your decision to go to Cutter Gap, but it appears to me now that you have thought long and hard about this. You certainly cover all your bases, don't you?" He tilted his head slightly; his face took on an endearing look. "You are wise beyond your years, darlin'. If you were my daughter, I would tell you that I was proud of you."
His words filled my heart with warmth.
****************************
George and I packed all day; and that evening, our last in Asheville, I surprised him by taking him down to the soda fountain. We used to go there as kids, especially if one of had a bad day. It was a hot July evening, and I knew that this would be our last opportunity to have ice cream. The soft evening light and the glow of the city stores brought back the feelings of childhood. It wasn't really memories that came to me--it was more a state of being---a familiar child-like sense.
We sat in one of the leather booths. George ordered a chocolate soda and a banana split. I ordered two dips of strawberries and cream. When I put the first bite in my mouth, I thought of Neil.
"You're in love with Dr. MacNeill aren't you?" George asked. He pointed his spoon at me.
I was astounded. He had read my mind. I was so surprised that I could not speak. All I could do was watch him as his sly smile appeared on his lips.
"I'm right aren't I?" He laughed and took a bite of his banana split. "You can't fool me, girlie. I know you too well."
I finally found words and threw them out awkwardly. "Dr. MacNeill and I are just friends. I---"
George's laugh interrupted me. He shook his head. He wore that silly smile; it was plastered on his face.
"It's true George--we are just friends. Even if I wanted it, we could never be anything more than that."
"Why not?" He asked, thoroughly licking his spoon.
"Because he is already married."
George looked serious now. "Married?"
As we ate our ice cream, I told George the story of Margaret MacNeill.
Part Sixteen Coming!!