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Chapter 1

Susan

Boone, North Carolina, July 2008

John “Mac” McBride, seventy-year-old retired surgeon, sat on the ground in front of Jones House,1 in Boone, North Carolina. Every sense in his being was focused on the haunting melody the petite lady with a mop of white curls was singing, unaccompanied by any instruments. She sang “Barbry Ellen.” He had never heard this version of the popular ballad before.

The pathos of her melody and rich voice brought goose bumps to his tanned arms. He couldn’t take his eyes from her. She sang another one that was equally beautiful: an old mountain hymn, “My Lord, What a Morning.” He ran his fingers through his gray-tinged sandy curls as if to ward off that morning of retribution.

Jones House hosted free concerts every Friday evening during the warm summer months. This evening, several groups were performing bluegrass, old-time music, folk songs, and ballads. The woman had played banjo and did vocals with one of the bluegrass bands. She was good on the banjo, but she was struggling, wiggling her fingers at every opportunity. Mac murmured, “Arthritis?” But now she was singing without the instruments.

“I want to meet this lady.”

The music went on for several hours. Audiences came and went as they wished, but if Mac hoped the woman would sing again, he would be disappointed. She didn’t. Later, when he looked behind where he was seated on the ground, she was seated on a blanket directly back of him.

Mac more than glanced at the woman. He watched how she twirled a snowy curl with a finger, absorbed in the music. She was apparently alone, although he noticed her blanket had room for two. He got up from his spot on the ground and went to where she was seated.

“May I join you?”

She shrugged and patted the blanket. “Sure. Plenty of room.”

“I never heard such a beautifully haunting sound as you gave us with your a cappella songs. Thank you. You made the program worth hearing. Oh, I’m Mac McBride from Macon, Georgia.”

“Howdy, Mac McBride. Thank you. Songs my grandpa taught me. I normally play the banjo when I sing, but my hands were cramping. Those songs do well without instruments. I am Susan Reese from Willson’s Cove, a little community west of here. What brings you to Boone?”

The music had changed from bluegrass to rockabilly. It was a bit difficult to hear each other over the booms and twangs, so Mac suggested going across the street to Our Daily Bread for a cup of coffee.

“Good idea. My ears are getting tired of the noise. They aren’t that good to begin with. My ears, not the music!” Susan laughed at her “punny.”

Mac offered to carry her banjo. Despite his stocky Scottish build, when he picked up the case, he understood why her hands must have been cramping while she played.

Susan saw him looking at her hands. “Yeah, a little bit of osteoarthritis in my right pickin’ hand.” She was otherwise very fit and looked younger than her sixty-nine years.

“This banjo’s heavy!” he said.

“Yes. I’m going to sell it. Too heavy for me with the resonator. I need a good old mountain “banjer” like my grandpa used to make.”

They drank decaf coffee, ate sandwiches, and talked without concern for the time.

“You here in Boone to get away from Georgia heat?”

“Partly. I just turned my surgical practice over to my son, Jack, a few months ago. I have always enjoyed vacationing here. In fact, back when the children were in their teens, we came up here for the Scottish Games on Grandfather Mountain. I’ve dabbled in the bagpipes and enjoy playing but not in public. Bob, my youngest son, tried bagpipes, but that was not his best talent either. He is a lawyer in Savannah now and good at that. The oldest son, Jack, the doctor, is a runner and runs the races at the Scottish Games.2 He was great in track and still comes here every July and runs. He was with me here last week with his entire family. Then Jessica, my daughter, well, she used to come along for the vacation, but she and her mother were more into the shopping. Ha. I doubt if you would ever see her at the Highland Games of her own accord.”

Susan shook her head, causing her white curls to bounce. “You know, I’ve lived here all my life and never went to the games. I love hiking at Grandfather Mountain, and I used to take my school students to the mountain every April when they have free admission for locals. We would hike, but I never went to the big festivities.”

“So you are a schoolteacher?”

“Retired. I taught at the little country school in the ’60s after I got out of college, but they closed the school. I got a job teaching here at Watauga High School then and taught till I retired in 2000. Wonderful career. I taught English and literature. I’ve been enjoying playing with our little string band ever since.”

Mac nodded. “I liked it. I’m not a great fan of bluegrass because it all seems to be the same, yet your band is a mix of bluegrass and old time.”

“You were a surgeon? What variety?”

“General surgery, appendectomies, gallbladders, stuff like that. Guess I did okay since I never got sued.”

Susan’s giggle reflected her perpetual youthfulness. “I guess that’s a good criteria.”

“And yes, this is partly a vacation and partly looking for a place to buy. I’d like to live here except for the real cold winter months. I still have my home in Macon, but Jack and his family are talking about moving in my place. They are outgrowing their home. It’ll be a good place for me to go when the weather gets cold, and even if they move in there, they’ll still have room for me.”

“Winter here isn’t that bad. It snows, the wind blows, it warms up in the daytime, and the snow melts. So where are you looking?”

“I have looked in Banner Elk, too remote. Linville, too small. Boone and Foscoe, meh. And Blowing Rock, which so far I like the best. My realtor is looking for the best fit for me. It needs to be big enough to host my family and small enough that I don’t have to hire a housekeeper.”

Susan cocked her eye and laughed. “I can’t imagine letting someone else clean my place. I take it there is no Mrs. McBride anymore.”

“She passed away two years ago. That’s when I decided to retire. I wasn’t able to be there for her much of the time when she was so sick, and now she is gone. Is there a Mr. Reese?”

“He was killed in Korea. We hadn’t been married a year. We didn’t have children, so I have had hundreds of wonderful children as students instead. I have my music, my extended family, lots of cousins, a host of friends, and lots of good memories. I still have an aunt who lives by herself at age eighty-six. But she told me a few weeks ago she has her name in a retirement home in Banner Elk.”

When the waitress at Our Daily Bread approached with a cleaning cloth in her hand and told them the store was closing, they were surprised. They had been chatting for an hour and a half, and it seemed as though it had only been ten minutes. Yet on the other hand, it seemed they had known one another for years.

Over the next couple of weeks, Mac saw Susan every day. Although she lived a half hour away from Boone, they met either in Boone or some other place that either he wanted to see or she wanted to show him.

One day she got behind the wheel and didn’t say where they were going. Winding curves to gravel roads and shifting into four-wheel drive up a country lane and mountainside. She took him to Willson’s Cove and showed him the old family home, although they did not go inside since her cousin Mike wasn’t there. Dook, the mixed-breed hound, greeted them with a bit of jumping and tail wagging. He recognized Susan’s car. Mac shared his lunch with the dog.

Then Susan took him to her own house, the place her daddy, Harvey Willson, built when he and her mother had married. They stayed long enough for her to show him the house and raid the refrigerator.

Last but not least, she took him back a rocky track to visit her Aunt Carrie.

Aunt Carrie was delighted to see them. “Well. Hope you don’t mind if I don’t get up and make y’all coffee, but seems I’m a-windin’ down these days.” She patted her walker. “Got my name in over at the retirement home in Banner Elk. You won’t forget to come and visit, will ya?”

“You know I won’t, Auntie.”

Carrie put her stamp of approval on Mac by pulling him down to her ear. She whispered something, but Mac never told Susan what she said.

One day they hiked the easy trails on Grandfather Mountain. Susan had no trouble keeping up with Mac. She was in great physical condition. She told him she worked out at a fitness club in Banner Elk.

“What better way for you to get acquainted with the high country than to visit the places of local interest with a local,” Susan said.

Mac laughed.

Does he know what I’m thinking? She really meant get acquainted with each other.

Mac had to return to Macon for some business, but before he left, he purchased a great place in Blowing Rock. He gave her more than a hint that he wanted more than a few weeks’ vacation in her company.

Does he have something permanent in mind?

Mac first met Susan on the third week of July. After going to Macon briefly, he returned to Blowing Rock and remained in the area until October, enjoying his new house in Blowing Rock and Susan. Bob, his son, and his family from Savannah; and Jessica, his daughter, with her family visited late in August. All the family met Susan, and she seemed to fit into their idea of a suitable consort for Mac. Jessica, however, made her feelings known.

“Dad, I am glad you found someone you enjoy being with. Just remember that no one, but no one can replace my mother. Be careful. That’s all I’m saying.”

At Thanksgiving, Susan joined Mac in Macon for a family get-together, and everyone hit it off well enough that even Jessica grudgingly admitted that Susan brought the best out of their father.

In December, Mac came to the high country supposedly to ski on Beech Mountain. He did not get much skiing done but spent most of his time fifteen miles off the slopes, in front of Susan’s fireplace. It was there that he proposed.

After a few trips back and forth between his place in Blowing Rock and Macon, Mac returned for the summer of 2009, and on a Saturday afternoon in early September, they had a private wedding ceremony at Susan’s little country church in Willson’s Cove. The only ones attending were Mac’s children and grandchildren and some of Susan’s first cousins who lived nearby. Susan insisted that Aunt Carrie Vance should come and asked Aunt Carrie’s daughter, Gladdie, to bring her mama.

There was a nice reception at the family home with foods provided by some of the cousins. It was a simple, low-key ceremony with the two families getting to know each other. Aunt Carrie was almost as lauded as much as the bride and groom.

The bride and groom took off the next morning for a honeymoon in Apalachicola, Florida.