Title: Some Enchanted Evening 
by Mary K.

Dear Neil, 

I am so glad you finally agreed to come out of your mountain lair and join 
the living. Just joking, my good friend. The symposium in Asheville has 
some very interesting programs and there are two devoted to eye disease. 
One focuses directly on Trachoma. I knew that your interest would be piqued. 
It will be so good to see you again, Neil. Your godson, Neil John is 
almost three years old. It is time for you to see him again. You are 
long overdue. Celia is looking forward to hugging her Scottish bear. 
She loves you like a brother, as do I. 

She has told me to order you, as if I could, to dust off your tuxedo, 
and come at least two days early if you are able to free your schedule. 
While a man's tuxedo does not go out of style as quickly as women's 
fashions, you may need a new shirt or cummerbund. Don't laugh, these 
things are important to Celia. I have learned not to try to make any 
sense of it, Neil. I would rather operate on someone's brain! You see, 
the Magnolia Ball falls during your visit. Nothing I can say or do will 
thwart my wife from showing off my son's godfather, and my best friend 
to her friends in the Asheville elite, for this hospital fund raiser. 
Do not worry Neil. I know that you do not suffer fools gladly. Either 
do I. That is why we got along so well at Jefferson. That eliminates 
nine tenths of those who attend these functions. But there are a few 
good people who do attend, and their money may help to pay our research 
projects. It does not hurt to mingle. Be pleasant, even if it kills you. 

I'm just joking Neil. 

I am enclosing directions to our house. I wish that I could meet you at 
the station, but I am on duty until seven o'clock in the evening. Take 
care, old friend, I cannot wait until we can sit in front of the 
fireplace, smoke our pipes, and sip a good glass of scotch 
(Medicinal purposes only) and recall our madcap days and nights at Jefferson. 

Until then, I remain your dutiful friend, 
Richard Wallace 

Neil read the letter Ben Pentland had delivered a few minutes before,
laughing at Richard's jokes. His friend knew him so well. So now he 
had to attend a ball, of all things. He shook his head. His tuxedo was 
probably moth eaten. He would have to air it out for a few days. Celia 
would make sure it was pressed and ready for wear. While Neil loved to 
dance, in his experience, formal dances were dull and boring. He had 
been to a few while he attended school in Scotland, and then a few 
more in Philadelphia, none since he came home to Cutter Gap. Formal 
did not exist here. The only people he would know in Asheville were 
Richard and Celia. He would rather stay home and play with his godson
and their twin daughters. 

He needed to go to Knoxville for supplies and other errands and he 
decided to take his tuxedo with him. He had it cleaned and pressed, 
purchased a new shirt and cummerbund and a pair of formal shoes and 
socks. It made him laugh at the irony. He worked in a place where few 
women and children owned shoes, yet in order to get funds for his 
research, he was buying a pair of formal shoes, which he would wear 
once. 'Hypocrisy or irony?' he wondered to himself. 

When he arrived at the Wallace's Celia was waiting on the porch 
holding her son. "Here's Uncle Neil, " she said to him, as Neil approached. 
He enveloped them in a giant bear hug, and kissed Celia on the 
cheek. "You are as beautiful as ever, Celia." 

"Welcome to Asheville, Neil. I am so happy to see you. Richard is 
thrilled that you are so close to us. He has said we should have 
moved here five years ago." 

"The New York offer was lucrative, Celia." 

"Yes, but you turned it down." 

"I had a debt to pay." 

"Was it worth it, Neil?" 

"I would have to say yes, Celia. It had been a long and difficult 
road, I'm afraid." 

"A lonely one as well, Neil." 

I suppose so, Celia. Margaret and our son have been dead too many 
years now. She was unhappy, and I was too rigid to see that. I felt 
I had to stay for my people. I cannot change that, Celia. It is a 
fundamental aspect of who I am." 

"Would you like something to eat or drink? We'll have dinner when 
Richard gets home. I will feed the children early, and start putting
them to bed at seven. Richard reads them a story and hears their 
prayers. That is our ritual when he is on the second shift. Emily 
and Anna will be home from school soon." 

"How are the twins?" 

"They are a joy, Neil." 

"He's happy, then?" 

"I trust that he is, Neil. It is a slower pace of life here. I am 
happy to return to my Southern roots." She smiled. "How about a 
sandwich and a cup of coffee?" 

"Tea instead, please." 

"Just what the doctor ordered," she said laughing. 

"Neil John is getting big," he said. Looking at the boy, he smiled
and ruffled his hair. 

"You have not seen him since his christening, Neil." 

"That long?" 

"Time flies, Neil." 

"Not in the mountains, Celia. It seems to stand still there." 

"We'll be calling you Rip Van Winkle, then." They laughed together. 
Soon the twins came home. "Uncle Neil," they called running to him. 
He picked each one up in his arms and kissed them. 

"Look at these two beauties," he said. "I am so happy to see you. 
Now which one of you is Prunella and which one is Griselda?" They 
hugged him around his neck and giggled. 

"I've missed you, Uncle Neil," said Emily. 

"Thank you Emily." 

"Me too," said Anna. 

"Thanks Annie Bananie," he said. 

"Uncle Neil!" she squealed. 

"Do you still love bananas?" 

"Yes," she said. He kissed her on the nose. Then he kissed Emily on 
the forehead. 

Celia watched him affectionately. He never had a problem telling the 
girls apart. Neil had met Margaret while he was at Jefferson. Celia 
and Richard were married and expecting the twins. Neil longed to have 
their kind of happiness. The couple knew that Margaret would only bring
him unhappiness and heartache, but Neil was smitten and in love. Logic
abandoned him. 

Celia longed for Neil's happiness. Perhaps he would meet someone at the 
Ball. He deserved love. A loving wife and children would be perfect for 
him. She called him her Scottish bear. He was big and brawny and soft and
lovable. His gruff exterior was merely a front to help him from being hurt 
again. He had been so attracted to Margaret, but she wondered if it had 
ever been true love. 

His days were spent absorbing information, attending meetings, taking 
copious notes. At the one session on trachoma, he asked so many specific 
questions, the presenter realized that Neil was actually treating people 
with the condition. From the types of questions, Neil must be treating 
very serious cases. He asked to speak with Neil when the talk was over. 
He wanted Neil to share his research. Neil was wary. His field research 
was an important part of his search for a cure. Neil did not want someone 
else to take credit for his hard work. He needed to speak with Richard. 

Evenings were spent enjoying the company of the Wallace's and their 
wonderful children. Neil knew that there was a void in his life, but 
there was nothing he could do about it so long as he stayed in Cutter Gap. 
The Magnolia Ball was a highlight in the Asheville's Hospital fund 
raising activities. Anyone who was anyone attended. Christy Rudd 
Huddleston had made her debut a few months earlier and was considered 
to be quite a catch. The only problem was that she was not looking for 
a husband. She loved to dance. She enjoyed being with her friends. She 
was attending college, unsure of what she wanted out of life. The Magnolia 
Ball was an Asheville social staple. 

Christy usually favored the color blue. For this occasion, she went 
against form and chose fabric that was magnolia pink, with dark pink and
almost purple accents, much like the flower itself. Her jewelry was simple.
She wore pearl earrings and her cross. She always wore her cross. It had 
been a gift from her grandparents. She never took it off. 

Neil arrived with Richard and Celia. He saw a few of the doctors who 
attended the symposium. Richard introduced him to some of the doctors on
staff at the hospital. Neil was pleasant and quite affable. He scanned 
the room. Neil had a keen sense of sight. His sense of hearing was 
extraordinary. He heard her laughter first. It was infectious and merry, 
not forced. He honed in on the source and found it to be an 
extraordinarily beautiful young woman. He was startled. At first 
glance she looked like Margaret. Then he realized that he was mistaken. 
She was dressed in a gown that was classically cut, in the shades of 
a magnolia blossom. Her eyes fairly danced with amusement. She was 
obviously a very popular young lady, yet she was not a flirt or a 
coquette. She made her way over to where two young ladies were standing. 
They were very nervous and not nearly as handsome as she was. When a young
man approached her to dance, she refused, but she somehow managed to 
convince him to ask one of her companions. The same thing happened again, 
with another young fellow. She seemed inordinately pleased, and found her
way to another party, obviously her parents. Her father had the first dance.
When she turned to step out on to the dance floor, her eyes made contact 
with Neil's. She felt as though she had been struck by lightning. Neil had
felt it as well. 

He stayed on the perimeter of the ballroom, engaging in varied 
conversations, always keeping her in his sight. Richard danced with Celia,
while Neil spoke about his research to Richard's colleague Francis Holt. 
Neil mentioned his conversation with the guest speaker. "In my humble 
opinion, Neil, the man is a leech." 

"I had a similar impression," said Neil. "Thank you for confirming it." 

"If you want to do field research for the hospital, and be part of its 
study on trachoma, you need to speak with Doctor Madden. Richard could 
arrange it for you." 

"Thank you," said Neil. Richard and Celia returned from the dance floor. 

"Talk to Jack Madden about Neil's trachoma studies," said Francis to Richard. 

"I will do just that," replied Richard. 

"Aren't you going to dance tonight, Neil?" asked Celia. 

"Celia, if I danced with you, you would never want to dance with Richard 
again," said Neil, laughing. 

"And you call yourself my friend," said Richard. 

"There is no point of me dancing with any of the lovely young ladies 
of Asheville's finest. There isn't one here who could survive one day in 
Cutter Gap." 

"So you will just be the handsome, brooding, mysterious stranger?" asked 
Celia. 

"Thank you for the compliment. That is exactly what I will be tonight." 
He caught sight of his magnolia blossom leaving the dance floor before 
the dance was over. 'That's the end of that dance partner,' he thought. 
As she reached her parents, she took out her dance card and crossed off 
a name. She was obviously annoyed. 'You are history,' thought Neil, of 
the young man. 

Dinner was announced. Neil had not eaten Beef Wellington since he had 
visited a school chum's family during a holiday, while he was at school 
in Scotland. After dinner and dessert, dancing resumed, and he sought a 
balcony and some fresh air. He stood in the shadows. 

She was on the balcony, looking up at the night sky. A young man 
approached her. "Come, I believe this is our dance." 

She sighed. "Franklin, I told you that I would not dance another dance 
with you. Your behavior towards me has been atrocious and ill mannered. 
I will not stand for it." 

"Are you saying that I am not gentlemanly enough for you?" 

"I do not enjoy being pawed, Franklin. Please leave me be, now!" 

"What? Then you would not have a full dance card tonight. That would be 
an unmitigated disaster for you," he said sarcastically. Just then they 
realized that they were not alone. Christy wrenched herself away from
Franklin. It was the stranger! 

"I believe the next dance is mine," said Neil. He took Christy's hand 
delicately in his and led her through the doors and on to the ballroom 
floor. The music began and he swept her up into the steps of the waltz. 
She felt as if she was floating on air. His touch was gentle yet firm as 
he guided her across the ballroom floor. She was having the most glorious
experience. He had rescued her from Franklin Hart's advances. She knew 
that this man had not danced at all, yet he chose to seek her out, his 
only dance partner for the evening. Tongues would wag for sure. 

He was such a commanding figure. No one knew who he was, no one seemed to
know where he came from. There were doctors from all over the eastern 
seaboard attending the medical conference. The Magnolia Ball was a fund
raiser for the research hospital. Perhaps he was here for that reason. 

"We have not been properly introduced, Sir." 

"Indeed we have not. I am a stranger to you and you are a stranger to me.
I hope that you will forgive my presumption, but I thought that you might 
be a damsel in distress, and might need rescuing from a boorish suitor." 

"You have my utmost thanks and eternal gratitude, Sir." 

"You are most welcome, Miss." 

"Your accent is Scottish. Are you from Scotland?" 

"My ancestors were from the Highlands." 

They continued to dance. Christy was breathless. They danced perfectly 
together, as if they had been dancing together for years. Then, the magic 
was over, the music ended. Neil escorted her back to the perimeter of 
the floor, took her hand and kissed it. It was such a gentlemanly, 
courtly gesture. "I thank you for the pleasure of this dance, Miss. 
It was the high point of my evening." He bowed to her and stepped aside. 
He nodded to her and turned away. 

Christy was stunned. She did not know his name and he did not know hers. 
She keenly felt his loss. While she was in his arms she felt free, yet safe
and secure. He disappeared into a sea of patrons. She was adrift. She sought
out her parents. 

"Why Christy, you seemed to float across the dance floor," said her mother.

"Who was your partner?" 

"I do not know, Mother." 

"What do you mean?" 

"Franklin Hart was an octopus tonight. I fear he was drinking. His hands 
were everywhere during our first dance. I refused to dance another dance 
with him tonight. The gentleman rescued me from a rather difficult 
situation and we danced together. He thanked me, kissed my hand, and
disappeared into the crowd. I do not know his name. I fear that I will 
never see him again. Oh Mother, he was a true gentleman, gallant and 
kind. He danced divinely. It was so romantic, Mother. It is like he 
stepped out of time." 

"Oh Christy, your head is in the clouds." 

"I think that you are quite correct, Mother." Dancing the waltz would
never be the same, she feared. 

"I am glad you danced at least one dance," said Celia. 

"I never could resist a waltz," said Neil. 

"Who was your partner?" 

"I do not know her name." 

"Would you like me to find out?" The three were leaving the ballroom 
to go home. 

"Let's be realistic, Celia. There really is no point. The chance of 
having a rainstorm in hell is more likely to happen than having one of
these beautiful Asheville debutantes come live in Cutter Gap." 

Christy wrote in her journal that night of her waltz with the mysterious 
stranger. She sketched his face to the best of her ability. It was the 
only token she'd have to treasure. She did not know his name, but he had 
deeply affected her. She tried to remember the feel of his lips when he 
kissed her hand. His voice was so gentle, so caressing. She imagined that 
he rarely said a cross word. 

Six months later she was standing with Mr. Pentland, being introduced to 
the Spencer family when a young Isaak came running to announce that Bob 
Allen had been injured. Tom McHone laid him down on the ground. Christy 
could hear a horse approaching, with a man hurrying off it, coming closer.
She was going to dab Mr. Allen's head wound with her handkerchief. 
The man crouched down next to Bob Allen. He looked intently at the young 
lady. His eyes flared in recognition, but that is all he gave away. Even 
as he assessed Bob, he thought, 'Magnolia, you look a little worse for 
the wear.' Neil was in full doctor mode. He locked eyes with her and said,

"Step aside." 

Christy was dumbfounded and in shock. He was her mysterious dance partner
and according to what she had heard around her, his name was Neil MacNeill. 
He was the doctor in the place where she was going to teach! 

Even as he prepared for this extremely serious and dangerous procedure on 
Bob Allen, and endured Mary Allen's endless superstitions, Neil MacNeill 
had not lost his sense of humor. 'Ah, Celia,' he thought, 'I wonder if 
the Devil owns an umbrella?' 

The End