Page 11 of Magnolia Summer

Lizzie stepped forward. “Mama, did a telegram come two days ago, on Tuesday?”

Confusion and annoyance creased her forehead and deepened the wrinkles at the corners of her eyes. “A telegram? I don’t know. Look over there.” She waved her hand at a small basket on the sideboard.

Lizzie stepped to the corner of the room and peered into the basket. “Here it is.” She snatched up the piece of paper, then her shoulders slumped. “Mama, why didn’t you tell us?” A look of dismay scrunched her face. She met Celia’s gaze and frowned, then let out a long slow breath. Celia wanted to say something reassuring, but words failed her.

Tempie and Harley ran into the house and threw their arms around Celia’s knees, nearly knocking her over. They squealed and pelted her with questions, then ran off before she could answer them. Tempie went to fetch her corn shuck doll someone had made for her, and Harley showed her his slingshot.

“I killed my first bird!” Dirt smudged his face and neck, but his smile was wide and full of joy.

“That’s very good,” Celia said, making sure to look impressed. But inwardly she marveled at how Lizzie had managed to care for them, as rambunctious as they were.

If Mama didn’t improve, Celia would not be able to leave them again.

* * *

Celia letthe second bucket fall to the bottom of the well. Night descended around her, and with it came the shrill chirping of crickets and the mournful calling of the whippoorwill. She turned the squeaky windlass to bring the full bucket to the top. As she reached for it, a horse’s hooves thudded on the road nearby. Celia turned from the well and strained to see who it was in the shadowy light of the moon and stars.

The rider turned onto their path and made his way toward where she stood beside the well several feet from the front porch. He took off his hat with a flourish and bowed slightly from atop his horse. “Miss Celia.”

Truett Beverly. He must have come to get his buggy and return Will’s horse.

“Dr. Beverly.” She had just seen him a few hours before, but somehow he looked different. Older.

“I apologize for running off and leaving you.”

“That’s all right. You were occupied with a more pressing matter, as I recall.”

He dismounted and walked closer. “I regret you had to see Griff that way . . . for your first impression to have been . . .that. He isn’t usually in such a state. His brain injury causes his behavior to be erratic.”

Could her mother’s state be the same as a brain injury? Could Dr. Beverly help her?

“I’ve come to see your mother as I promised.” Dark crescents ringed Truett’s eyes. His hair and clothes were slightly disheveled, and he looked as if he needed a shave.

A pang of pity squeezed her stomach, and a sudden urge came over her to put her arms around him.

Oh, dear.Celia took a step backward, almost spilling the bucket of water that teetered on the edge of the well. What was wrong with her?

She was tired, that was all.

“Let me get that for you.”

Before she could protest, he stepped forward, took the bucket from her hand, and grabbed the other one from the lip of the well.

“Thank you.”

He was standing very close. The light that showed through the kitchen window showed the shadow of stubble on his cheeks and the slight cleft in the center of his chin. His masculine leather-and-horses smell made her heart thump.

“I-I— Would you like to come inside?” What a stupid thing to say! He’d have to come inside. He was carrying her buckets of water. Was she so affected by the man that she would act like an enamored schoolgirl?

“I will check up on your mother if it’s a convenient time.”

“Yes, thank you.” She turned away.

Celia marched quickly up the steps and held the door open for him. The house was quiet, as Lizzie had just gone outside to find the twins. Dr. Beverly put the buckets down by the sink. He straightened and their eyes met again.

“Thank you, Dr. Beverly.”

He nodded. “You’re most welcome, Miss Celia.”