May had proved to be a rainy month; we had more than our usual share of storms. The mud hole was muddier than I had ever seen it. The rivers and creeks swelled over their banks and rushed white and fast over the land. Waterfalls that I had never seen before cropped up everywhere. They were beautiful to behold, and Fairlight and I spent many afternoons searching for them. But the heavy rains caused me to fear for the children, for they walked such long distances to come to school. Mountie feared thunder and lighting so much that she sometimes asked to sit in my lap during class. On stormy days, we would all sit in a circle on the floor and sing songs to drown out the horrid thunder.
One stormy Monday morning, as we sat in a circle to sing, Creed Allen said, "Let's sing your favorite song, Teacher."
I grinned, "And just what do you think my favorite song is, Creed."
"Why that's easy Mizz Christy--you're always a-humming it. It's 'Down in the Valley.'" I was amazed at Creed's close observations, for that song had come to symbolize to me the pure goodness of these mountain people.
"You are correct, Creed Allen. It is my favorite."
He smiled triumphantly.
"I tell you what--why don't you start us off."
Just as Creed started to sing. Ben Pentland burst into the schoolhouse carrying several big packages. His clothes were soaked with rain and smeared with mud, and his hair was plastered against his face.
"Packages, teacher," cried Sam Houston with such excitement that everyone jumped to their feet.
"They're from Asheville, Mizz Christy," Ben said out of breath.
"You must be exhausted, Mr. Pentland. Why don't you sit for awhile."
"Much obliged." He sat down in one of the children's desks.
"Open them, teacher!" The children cried in unison.
I opened the package with a pair of scissors. Inside, I found, as I had expected, books. My eyes widened. I had spent hours composing a list of books and send it to Father with money that I had earned from my teaching salary. I wanted so much for all the children to own a book of their very own. A book that they could take home and read. I chose a different book for each child--one that I thought they would like. I wanted them to know that their hard work would be rewarded. I picked up the top book. It was a copy of Tom Sawyer. I opened it to the front page, in meticulous calligraphy, Father had written--Property of Creed Allen. I smiled.
"What is it teacher?"
"Why are you smiling?"
"Show us!"
"Since school is almost out for the summer," I began carefully. I did not want them to mistake the books for charity. I had traveled down that road before with these highlanders; they would have none of it. "I wanted to get you all a little something to reward you for your hard work. You have all been wonderful students. You have earned these."
Everyone smiled with pride and curiosity.
"As I call your name, I want you to come to my desk and pick up your reward." "Creed Allen..."
Creed walked up boldly to my desk. I handed him the copy of Tom Sawyer. His eyes sparkled. "For me Mizz Christy?"
"Yes, Creed--look in the front."
He opened the book and read aloud--"Prop-er-ty of Creed Allen--it's my book?" He looked at me with astonishment.
"Yes, it belongs to you, Creed, you can take it home." I turned my eyes on the class. "I have one here for each of you."
"Sam Houston..."
"Mountie…"
"Rob Allen…"
"Ruby Mae…"
"Little Burl…" I called all the children one-by-one to my desk. When I had handed out the last book, the children were all smiling and looking through their new treasures. Even Lundy flipped through his copy of "Treasure Island" with a look of joy. The students studied the inscriptions that my father had added and compared their book with their neighbors. They giggled and awed over the illustrations.
At the bottom of one of the boxes, I discovered an envelope. I opened it. Inside was a beautiful, oval, locket and a letter. I turned the locket over; It was inscribed on the back; it read:
To our girlie: Just because you make us proud!
We love you---Father, Mother, George, and Emilia from on high."
Tears came to my eyes. Inside the locket I found two pictures--on the left side was a picture of Mother, Father, and George and on the right was a drawing that mother had done of Emilia. I opened the letter.
May 2, 1913
Dear Christy:
You sounded so sad on the telephone when we talked to you last, and your letters make us miss you terribly. We long to give you a hug and a kiss. We hope that you are well. Please know that we are so proud of our girlie.
Love,
Mother, Father, & George.
At that moment, I realized how rich I really was. God had blessed me with such a family and with these wonderful children that I loved so dearly. I had been so gloomy these passed weeks; I should have been filled with joy. I resolved to be happy and enjoy life. I had almost forgotten where I was--so deep in thought I had been-- until a tiny voice called me back to the classroom. "Teacher, are you okay?" Little Burl tugged at my skirt. I looked down at him.
"Yes, Little Burl, I'm just fine."