Page 22 of Magnolia Summer

So, he would appeal to Lizzie, as if she was his mother. Celia sighed. He had little choice, she supposed, if he wanted to find someone to overrule Celia.

“We’ll see, Harley,” Celia soothed. “Let’s talk about it later, all right?”

“I don’t think Harley is old enough,” Will said softly after Harley ran inside to talk to Lizzie. “We saw a rattlesnake.”

She shuddered, then glared at Truett. “Is this true?”

“We stayed still until it slithered away.”

“But he could have been killed!” Celia covered her mouth as her lip trembled. She really was tired.

Truett stood looking at her with his mouth open. Finally, he said softly, “I would have shot the snake before it could have bitten Will. I’m watching out for him, I promise.”

Why did Truett always have to be hanging around Will, as if he was part of their family?

She knew her thoughts were unkind, but she couldn’t seem to cast out the anger that lodged in her chest like a boulder.

She could see the proud tilt of Will’s shoulders. She took a deep breath and forced a smile. “That’s impressive, Will. Can we eat them?”

“Yep! Truett’s going to show me how to skin them.”

“Good.” Celia turned to go, then remembered. “Another pig has died. We should probably get him out of the pen as soon as possible.”

“Having trouble with your pigs?” Truett asked.

“This is the third one to die,” Will answered. “You reckon they’ll all die?”

Truett frowned and pushed up his hat with the back of his wrist. “Can’t say for certain, but it doesn’t sound good. A lot of diseases that affect pigs run rampant in these parts. They often take out the whole herd in a few days.”

Celia’s heart sank. With no money for food, she’d counted on the pigs to provide winter meat for the family. “What can we do? Is there some kind of . . . I don’t know . . . tonic we could give them?”

“Not that I know of.” Truett smiled and she suddenly wished she hadn’t said anything. For pity’s sake, she sounded as desperate and dependent on him as the rest of her family.

“That’s all right. We can just slaughter the healthy ones now.”

The smile was replaced with a more serious lifting of his eyebrows. “I wouldn’t recommend that. The meat wouldn’t keep in this heat, and it might not be safe, depending on what the pig died of. But Will and I’ll get that dead one out and bury it.”

“Don’t worry, Celia.” Will chimed in. “We’ll get rid of that dead pig.”

“Thank you. I would appreciate that.”

Celia went inside to help Lizzie set the table for breakfast. The window provided a great view of Will and Truett hard at work. First they lifted out the dead pig, and after burying it, skinned the rabbits in the back yard. She did her best to avoid seeing the blood and guts. And to think, some men expected their wives to do the skinning.

Celia, Lizzie, and Tempie ate breakfast in silence, except for Tempie’s prattling speech to her doll. Mama was still in bed.

After Celia and Lizzie cleaned up the kitchen, they took their baskets to the garden. As they passed where Will and Truett were skinning the rabbits, Celia called, careful to keep her eyes focused just to the left of them, “Whenever you’re ready, go on in the house and help yourselves to some breakfast.”

“Thank you kindly,” Truett said. She saw his smile from the corner of her eye.

Celia stood between the rows of pea plants and listened as Lizzie showed her how to tell which peas were ready to pick.

“See this one?” Lizzie held out a green and purple mottled pea pod. “You can feel the grown peas inside, making these bumps. The ones that are still flat aren’t ready yet.”

They picked steadily for an hour in the bright morning sun, then picked the tomatoes, squash, and okra. Truett must have helped them plant the garden. How else would they have known what to plant or how?

She suspected they owed Truett Beverly a lot. According to Lizzie, they would hardly have survived without his help. She should be nice to him, and should probably thank him for all he and his family had done for them. Truett’s mother had come over and showed them how to operate the stove and explained to Lizzie about canning and pickling the extra produce from the garden they weren’t able to eat.

Celia straightened and pushed her hand into the small of her back. Her hands itched and stung from the tiny, hair-like prickles on the okra plants. Her toes were wet from the morning dew, and she could hardly wait to sit down.