Page 24 of Magnolia Summer

“Isn’t that just so typical?” Celia’s voice rasped. Her face grew warm and her dress was suddenly too tight around her diaphragm. “Men think they’re the ‘lords of creation,’ with that smug attitude that their ‘little woman’ couldn’t live without them. Well, that’s just a load of manure!”

Truett stared a moment, his mouth falling open, then he let out a guffaw and bent forward.

Her face burned. “Maybe some women think they can’t live without you, but I’m not one of them. For your information—”

Celia searched for what to say next, hardly certain what she had just said. She should just stop before she said something she would regret, but words tumbled out of her mouth anyway.

“Not all women are like my mother.” Her voice was a rough whisper. “I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself, and so is every other woman who isn’t too silly and stupid to realize it. And if you think you’re so needed around here— The only person around here who needs you is Will!”

She stomped back toward the house with a sinking feeling that she’d just made a fool of herself—and spoken unfairly to Truett Beverly.Oh, no.Was that Will standing at the edge of the yard? Had he heard her?

What had she said anyway? Oh, what was it about this man that made her lose control of her temper and her tongue? Better to have bitten her tongue off than to be unjust to a man who had been so good to her family.

She slunk through the kitchen door. Lizzie stared at her as if she’d turned purple. Celia walked past her, straight into the bedroom, and closed the door behind her.

Oh! Why had Truett provoked her so with his smug grin and arrogant words about men being stronger than women?

Still, she really shouldn’t have said those things. She suspected her anger had little to do with him or what he said. And everything to do with how upset she was at . . . truly, she hardly knew. All she could think was,Daddy, why did you have to bring your family here and then die?

Celia threw herself across the bed, her heart hammering against her chest. She lay still until her breathing slowed to normal. Tears dripped from her eyes, her face still hot.

Men! They thought they could pull their wife up by the roots and move her to the middle of nowhere, to a backward, nowhere place without even a decent store for miles around, and then up and die. And women were even worse! Maybe they deserved their fate, if they went along with whatever their husband told them to do, never speaking their minds . . .

“Why, God?” Celia whispered against her pillow. “Was that your plan when you created marriage? Well, I will not forget my dream of owning my own dress shop just so a man can think he’s the lord ofme. I won’t do it. I can’t bear to end up like Mother. Shelivedfor Daddy, and he treated her like a servant, not an equal. She had not one thought in her head except to please him. I can’t be like that, God. Iwon’tbe like that.”

Celia was thankful no one could hear her except God. He knew what she thought anyway. Hadn’t she begged God, since she was twelve, to not let her become like her mother? There was just something terrifying about the way her mother never seemed to have any interest in anything but housework and her father’s every whim or wish.

Celia loved so many things—sewing new dresses, creating dress patterns, and she also loved reading history books, listening to political speeches, and reading fiction stories. The thought of giving those things up for a husband made her shudder in horror, then anger.

“God, please let me go back to Nashville.” She rested her arm over her face as tears ran into her hairline and chilled her. But she also wanted to help Lizzie and her family. If she left, what would happen to Lizzie, Will, Harley and Tempie? She couldn’t leave, with no one to look after them except Mother, who barely even noticed they existed. Still, there had to be a way.

God, please help us. Don’t make me stay here. In two months, when summer is over, Lord, please let us be in Nashville. Get me back to Nashville, God. Please.

Chapter 8

The next day, Celia rode to church clutching her favorite hat to keep the wind from blowing it off her head. Lizzie had tried to get her to wear something smaller, but Celia had refused. She wasn’t going to let anyone dictate her sense of fashion. Besides, if she had to apologize—and she had determined she absolutely would apologize to Truett Beverly, even if he laughed at her—she would do it wearing her favorite dress and her favorite hat.

As they drove into the churchyard, Truett was just helping his mother down from his buggy. He turned and met Celia’s gaze, stare for stare. Before they even came to a stop, Truett began walking toward them, maybe just a tiny bit less confident and with a less jaunty step than usual.

It soon became clear he meant to get to her first and help her down from the wagon seat. Well, good. She could get this over with now.

Truett held out his hand to her. “Good morning, Miss Celia.” She was relieved to see no sign of jocularity in his expression this morning.

She took his hand, swallowed, and forced the air past the tightness in her throat.

“Good morning, Dr. Beverly.” Heat crept into her cheeks at the remembrance of what she had said yesterday.

He helped her down.

Celia spoke quickly, while he was still standing so near and no one else was close enough to hear. “Please let me apologize for what I said yesterday, especially the part about not needing you. That was terribly ungracious.” She couldn’t meet his eyes. She stared at the ground, at her hands, and just past his shoulder by turns. “I’m sorry I sounded so ungrateful, when I truly am thankful you came to my family’s aid. You were generous and kind, and I want to thank you and tell you that I’m sorry.”

There, she’d gotten it all out without being interrupted.Thank you, God.

“I forgive you. But it was my fault. I baited you, and I’m sorry.”

What did he mean, he’d baited her? Had he been in jest the whole time? “Well, I—”

She met his intense—and yet sweet—blue gaze and forgot what she was about to say.