Page 68 of Magnolia Summer

“Are you saying they don’t belong to you?”

“I’m not saying anything.”

Celia’s shoulders slumped as tension left her body. She’d finally got it out. She’d been as taut as a banjo string ever since she’d decided she had to warn him. But she still had to make him see the danger he was in and make him promise to be careful, and to secure the help of someone higher in authority than the sheriff.

“I’d just like to know how you figured all this out.”

She sighed, realizing they were in for a long conversation, and sat down beside him.

“Ruby and her grandmother came over and were talking about the hooded horseman. I just got to thinking about you and how fierce you had looked when you spoke of James Burwell almost being lynched—”

“You thought I looked fierce?” Truett raised his eyebrows and smiled.

Celia shook her head at how pleased he sounded. “Anyway, I just realized that it made sense that you were the hooded horseman. They said you also attacked Sheriff Suggs, but I didn’t believe that.”

“And then you found my hood and cloak. How did you know they were mine?”

He turned his body so that his knee brushed hers where they sat on the big tree trunk.

“I just knew.”

“How?”

“I’m not telling you.” They stared each other in the eye so long Celia’s eyes began to water.

The light had faded until there was little more than a glow in the sky overhead. She could still make out his features, the slight cleft in his chin and the strong, masculine line of his jaw. His intense gaze seemed to search her heart. Could he see that she had been suppressing her desire for him ever since that first day she’d met him, when the compassion in his face had created a longing in her she didn’t understand? How she’d held back from admiring him, from trusting him and allowing him to court her?

She pressed her hands against her face to cool the sting in her cheeks, thankful he couldn’t read her mind. But the conflict inside her made tears spring to her eyes. The truth was that she was terrified to allow herself to love him. Look what love had done to her mother! Besides, the man was doing a dangerous thing. He would most likely hang sooner or later, whenever Sheriff Suggs found out what he’d done. Then where would he be? Cold in the grave. And where would that leave anyone who loved him? Comfortless and alone.

“What are you thinking?” Truett reached out and touched her hand.

“I’m thinking that you’re crazy and you’re going to be killed.” She could barely see through the sudden pain that was blurring her vision. Her heart twisted inside her chest. She wanted to stop her words, knowing they were irrational, but they spilled out anyway. “What were you thinking when you crossed this sheriff? Did you think you wouldn’t be found out? Did you think you wouldn’t be killed? What do you plan to do now?” A tear slipped from each eye and Celia swiped at them with her hand. Words were coming out that she hadn’t meant to say, things she didn’t know she was going to say until she heard herself say them.

“Please don’t cry.”

“When you get yourself killed, what good will that do? My father got himself killed with his foolishness, now you’re trying to do the same thing. There has to be another way. You have to get someone from Huntsville involved, someone who can stop this sheriff from taking matters into his own hands, from lynching people. If you don’t, he’s going to kill you. I can’t let that happen to you.”

Celia pressed her lips together, knowing there was nothing she could do to control what would happen to him. Tears were still oozing down her cheeks. She blinked, willing the them to dry up.

She glanced at Truett and immediately tried to look away. But she was caught. The tenderness in his expression pierced her heart.This man is so good and I’m so selfish, God. And such a coward.When had she become so fearful?

Truett reached for her hand again. This time she didn’t resist. His gentle fingers wrapped around hers. He never took his eyes off her face.

She had revealed too much of her thoughts and feelings. Her mind screamed at her to flee, but she couldn’t resist the warmth that was flooding her chest. He was so deserving of everything good, of a good wife. He deserved someone much more perfect that she was. She shouldn’t let him hold her hand. Didn’t he know he deserved someone better?

They sat in silence for a minute or two. Truett finally looked down at her hand and began to rub the back of it with his thumb. His callused palm pressed against her hand, which, after a few weeks of hoeing and gardening, had a few calluses, too.

How could she fight the way she felt? Did she love him? Should she agree to let him court her?

Chapter 20

The way Truett stroked the back of her hand sent tingles up her arm. She shouldn’t be enjoying his touch so much.

When he stopped, she opened her eyes. He was no longer looking at her, but was gazing off to the side. “When I was seven years old,” he spoke slowly and deliberately, “my father and my two oldest brothers went off to fight the Yankees.”

Celia studied his face. He wore a blank expression, but his serious tone made her want to hear every word.

“Father survived, but I never saw my brothers again. They were both killed at Chickamauga.” He sighed and shook his head. “I was too young to go fight.” He stopped again and they listened for a moment to the frogs croaking to each other from down on the creek bank.