Page 16 of Magnolia Summer

She blew out a breath, already feeling the weight of the humid morning air. She reached for her favorite hat. As she began pinning it in place, Lizzie wrinkled her nose.

“Not that hat, Celia. Wear something . . . smaller.”

Celia examined the long, puffy hat with its wide burgundy ribbon trailing down the back. The multiple dyed feathers and silk flowers increased its height by half a foot. She carefully placed it back into its box.

Smaller. It wasn’t as if she even owned one of the floppy cotton bonnets everyone around here was so fond of. She searched through her trunk until she found an old hat, now slightly out of fashion, no larger than her two fists. One side of the brim pushed up and it had only a small bow and a cluster of wax grapes at the back. At least it was the right colors, cream and mauve, to match her dress.

Harley and Tempie bickered in the back of the wagon all the way to church. Mother had refused to come, without giving any reason. Celia had never been very close to her mother, had always been closer to Daddy, who treated her more like an adult than a child. She was the oldest and loved spending time with her father, though she suspected he’d wished she was a boy.

Celia sat beside Will, who drove the horses while Lizzie sat with the twins in the back and tried to keep them from fighting.

A lump of dread formed in her chest as they drew closer to the little white church. What kind of people would she meet here? Would the other young women dislike her?

When they arrived, Will stopped the horses in the shade of a group of cottonwoods, which shed the white bits of cotton-like substance that floated through the air all around the church yard. The air was thick with it, like snow that drifted sideways instead of falling to the ground.

Will jumped down and came around the wagon to help her. His small twelve-year-old hand held hers firmly, and she noticed the calluses for the first time. It was no longer the hand of a child, white and dimpled with baby fat. Will was still small for his age, but his hands were scratched and sun-browned, his nails broken and stained. He also displayed an easy confidence she’d never seen in him before.

As soon as her feet were on solid ground, he sauntered off toward some boys who were calling him. Lizzie and the twins also scrambled out of the wagon and scattered.

Celia searched the small knots of people milling around the church yard until she spotted Harley talking to an older woman. The woman bent over him with an indulgent expression.

Where was Tempie?

Celia glanced around until her eye caught the little girl’s bright yellow dress. She also stood chattering away to someone who squatted beside her, bringing his face even with hers. Celia blinked once, twice, then gasped. The man talking to Tempie was Dr. Beverly’s brother, Griff.

Her face tingled as the blood drained away.

Pursing her lips, Celia strode the ten steps it took her to reach Lizzie, who was talking to two other girls her age. She grabbed her sister’s arm and pulled her aside.

“Celia! What in the world—”

“Lizzie, do you see who Tempie’s talking to?” Her voice was a half-hysterical hiss, but this was a desperate situation. They had to act—before it was too late. “Help me save her!”

“What do you mean?” Lizzie’s gaze darted from Tempie to stare at Celia with lowered eyebrows and round eyes. “She’s just talking to Griff.”

“He’s dangerous!”

“Oh, Celia, he’s harmless—most of the time. He’d never hurt Tempie.”

“Never hurt Tempie? He tried to bash his own mother’s head in with a boulder!”

“You’re overreacting.”

It was Celia’s turn to stare at her sister. Had she lost her mind?

She turned back to see if Tempie was still safe. Griff was tying her bonnet strings under her chin. He didn’t look as if he would hurt her. Perhaps she was overreacting, but she remembered how he’d looked when he’d grappled with Truett, making those horrible snarling sounds.

The man’s fingers grazed her little sister’s cheek. Celia clenched her teeth and marched over to them. She bent down and swept Tempie up in her arms, forcing Griff to let go and leave the strings hanging loose. She ignored the man and walked away with her sister pressed against her chest.

Out of Griff’s hearing, she whispered, “Tempie, if you need your bonnet tied, come to me or Lizzie.”

Tempie pushed hard against her sister’s upper arms. “Let me down!” she screamed. “I want down. I want to go!”

Tempie was struggling so to get down, Celia put her down. The child took off at a run back toward Griff. She immediately started tugging on his trouser leg.

Celia held her breath, waiting to see what Griff would do. Would he become annoyed with the child? She couldn’t allow the man to hurt her little sister. She would claw his eyes out before she would allow him to harm one hair on her head. Celia’s heart was in her throat as she watched, paralyzed.

Griff stood conversing with two men. He was exclaiming something about a “hooded horseman,” his voice animated and his arms flailing. Tempie stared up at him a moment, then wandered off toward a circle of children and began drawing in the dirt with a stick.