Page 28 of Magnolia Summer

“Celia?”

She was staring at the white biscuit dough instead of rolling it out. “Sorry, Lizzie.” She picked up the rolling pin and applied it to the ball of dough.

She would achieve her dreams. Although, seeing herself in Bethel Springs, her arms covered halfway to her elbows with flour, it was a little harder to believe.

She needed some time with her dress pattern catalogs and Godey’s Ladies Books. She’d brought about two dozen with her when she came here, thinking she’d only be separated from the rest of them until she could get back to Nashville—by September at the very latest. But would she be able to get back by then? Even if they could sell the farm, would they have the money in time? It was already near the end of June.

Celia used a tin can, which had been sawed in half for the purpose, to cut the biscuits into perfect round circles. She placed them on the pan, then opened the oven door. As she shoved them inside, her finger touched the hot oven rack. She jerked her hand back and slammed the door.

Celia blew on her finger.

“You burned yourself!” Lizzie grabbed her hand and dunked it into the bucket of water in the sink.

Celia pulled her hand out of the water and stared. Her nails were chipped and uneven. Her fingertips were stained purple and brown from shelling the black-eyed, purple-hull peas, and now she had a red burn on her right index finger. And it still throbbed and burned.

She checked the wood box. It was almost empty. Looking out the kitchen window, she saw the wood pile was getting small as well. It was stacked only as high as her waist. Where was Will? Wasn’t it his responsibility to keep them supplied with wood for the stove?

She called down the hallway. “Will!”

“He went back to bed after his morning chores.”

“Well, it’s time he woke up.” She hollered toward the boys’ bedroom. “Will!”

Will stumbled down the hallway and into the kitchen, his shirt and trousers rumpled. “What? I already milked the cow and fed the horses.”

“We need firewood.” Celia blew on her finger, wishing she had something cold to put on it.

“I have some I’ve been needing to split.”

“What are you waiting for? The sun’s already up.”

“All right, sis. Don’t get in such a’ all-fired hurry. Here in the country, we like to take things slooowww.” Will snickered as he pushed open the back door and let it slam behind him.

He thought he was so funny, teasing her with that exaggerated drawl and colloquialisms. She sighed and started cleaning up her floury mess.

Lizzie said softly, “You could have let him wait until after breakfast.”

Celia didn’t reply, but the gentle rebuke made her stomach twist. Still, Will was the one who supposedly liked it here. He should know that people on a farm couldn’t sleep late. There was too much work to be done.

Will split wood while Lizzie stirred the gravy in the pan on the stove and Celia set the table. Soon it was ready, and Celia called him to come eat. He ate a quick breakfast of biscuits and sausage gravy, then went straight out to split more wood.

Celia was washing dishes at the dishpan in front of the window. She glanced out just in time to see Will bring the ax down from over his shoulder toward the block of wood standing on its end. But his angle was off. The ax glanced off the wood and struck Will in the leg.

Celia stared, expecting to blink and wake up.

Will held his leg and turned toward the house. Dark liquid soaked his pants in an ever-widening circle, the red seeping between his fingers.

“Will’s hurt.” Celia lost her breath, her face beginning to tingle.

“What?”

Celia grabbed two clean towels out of the basket by the kitchen table and ran out the door. Lizzie was right behind her.

Will stood holding his leg. “Will, sit down.” Celia grabbed his leg and held it up, forcing him onto the ground. She pulled his pant leg up to get a better look at the wound. It was pouring blood, dripping through her fingers and onto the ground. She wrapped one towel tightly around it and then tied the other towel over it to keep it snug.

Will moaned and gasped.

Everything began to spin.Oh, God, help me!“Dr. Beverly. I’ll go get him.”