Page 23 of Magnolia Summer

She carried her basket into the kitchen and found Truett and Will still sitting at the table, with Mother in the corner looking droopy-eyed and half asleep. Harley sat in Truett’s lap, playing with two wooden soldiers on the table.

Lizzie stepped in just behind Celia.

“Truett, you’re still here.” Lizzie’s voice was so sunny it brightened the room. At the same time, Celia cringed to hear her address an adult male with such familiarity.

“Lizzie, it’s impolite to call him that.” She smiled to soften her words. “He’s Dr. Beverly.”

“That’s all right, Miss Celia. I don’t mind if she calls me Truett. I’m here so often, the little ones probably think I’m family.” As if to prove his point, Tempie attempted to crawl into his lap. He boosted her up with one hand, balancing her on his other leg. Harley immediately tried to shove her off, but Truett gently pulled the little boy’s hand away.

The picture he made, sitting there with both children on his lap, was ridiculously homey.

Celia let out the breath she was holding, then bit the inside of her lip to stop herself from speaking. But the words popped out anyway. “Don’t you have patients to tend to?”

He looked up, his eyes wide and his brows raised. “It’s Saturday. I don’t go in until noon—unless there’s an emergency.”

Celia tried not to frown.

Truett and the boys soon went outside while Tempie went to play with her dolls. Truett was helping Will dig a root cellar in the back yard for storing potatoes. Lizzie and Celia sat and shelled peas. After a while, Mother sat up straighter and said, “Let me help.”

Lizzie fetched her a tin dishpan and gave her a handful of pea pods. She shelled slowly but steadily until they had finished them all.

Celia went outside to fetch a bucket of water to wash the peas. As she let the bucket down into the well, she saw Truett coming toward her, fairly covered in dirt.

“Would you like some water to wash your hands?”

“You read my mind.” His smile showed white teeth against sun-browned skin. When he smiled at her like that, she felt she could hardly breathe, as well as a bit too . . . what was the word?

Feminine?

Ugh. No, she wouldn’t think about his smile or how it made her feel. His presence was just plain unsettling. Did he have to be so helpful? Her family loved him way too much.

He silently stretched his hands out in front of him. Celia hefted the bucket, holding the handle with one hand and tipping the bottom with the other. She poured a steady stream of water over his dirt-encrusted palms. They were large and callused, not the hands of most doctors, surely. They were gentle but masculine hands. He rubbed them together briskly, then turned them over as she continued pouring.

“Thank you kindly.”

She stopped and he held them by his sides to drip dry.

He captured her eyes with his. With light brown hair framing his face in small curling wisps at his temples and below his ears, his jaw cut a firm, masculine line. Did he know how appealing he was?

She had a feeling he did.

She turned away to draw more water. Suddenly, he reached over her arm and took the bucket from her hand. She jumped back.

“Sorry.” Truett’s face was only inches from hers. He drawled in a deep, soft voice, “I’ll get that for you.”

His eyes were so near, so blue. She stepped away from him to break the spell. “You certainly don’t have to.”

“But isn’t it a man’s job to make a woman’s life easier?”

Hackles rose on the back of her neck. “What do you mean by that?”

“Men do the heavier work, and women’s work is lighter.” A smile of amusement played on his lips.

“Oh, is that so?” Was hetryingto make her angry?

“Of course. A man likes to feel that he’s doing the heavy tasks, the ones that are too hard for the women.”

Celia folded her arms across her chest and glared at him. He stood there with the full bucket in one hand.