Page 78 of Magnolia Summer

“Not you, too.” Celia used the back of her hand to push back the lock of hair that slipped over one eye. “When Lizzie’s not hounding me about him, she’s giving me these looks to let me know she’s thinking about hounding me about him.”

“Well, I promise not tohoundyou, but I was curious after the way the two of you were looking at each other at the Fourth of July dance.” Almira arched her eyebrows.

A thin stream of tomato juice tickled as it ran down Celia’s arm. She grabbed a cloth on the table and rubbed her arm. Sighing, she decided she might as well tell Almira the truth.

“Truett and I are . . .” How could she say this? “I think we both . . . We care about each other. But it can’t come to anything.” She didn’t want to lie, but she didn’t want to tell what had happened between them, either. “I’ve been trying not to fall in love with him.” There. That ought to be enough truth for the both of them.

“Why? Being in love is a wonderful feeling.”

“Are you joking? Being in love is a terrible feeling!”

“How do you know?” Almira arched her eyebrows again.

“Oh. Well, I don’t know, I guess, but I can imagine. It feels scary, as if you’re about to dive head first off a cliff into a boulder. It feels stupid! I don’t want to do it, Almira. I can’t. We both know that women are worth so much more than mere servants and bed partners, and that’s all men want us for.”

Celia’s cheeks burned and she wished she’d kept her opinion to herself, especially since Almira was with child and not married.

But Almira didn’t seem to take offense. She smiled and stopped peeling the tomato to stare at the opposite wall. “But isn’t it all worth it to have him say he loves you?”

Celia shrugged. No one had ever said they loved her—until last week when Truett said it. It had felt pretty wonderful for a few seconds. But things between them weren’t likely to end wonderfully.

She used her knife to stab a ripe tomato from the pan. She should think about how awful being a widow would feel, how she’d vowed never to marry and lose her chance to own her own business.

“I don’t want to work in the kitchen all day. I want to work in a dress shop of my own, to create new fashions, to earn money in my own way and at my own trade. The thought of being like my mother ties my stomach in knots.”

“Maybe you could have both.”

“Both?”

“Sure! All of it—a husband, children, and owning your own dress shop.”

“I don’t think it works that way.”

“Why?”

“Children are wonderful, but someone has to take care of them. I know. It takes all three of us—Lizzie, Will, and me—to take care of Harley and Tempie.”

“I think you will see things a little differently when you fall in love. And Truett is a good man, I can tell you that. James, Truett, and I grew up together. We used to sneak off with James to the black church. That’s when I learned about the unprejudiced God of love and mercy.” She smiled dreamily, lost in her memories. She said softly, “Besides, you couldn’t do better than Truett Beverly.”

Celia moaned again. If the girl wanted a list of wonderful characteristics, she could name them herself. Noble, selfless, compassionate, brave . . . she could go on and on. “I know he’s a good man. That’s what I can’t stand about him. He’s too perfect.” She was talking crazy again. She stabbed another tomato.And a wonderful kisser.

“I think you are in love with him. You’re just too scared to admit it.”

Chapter 23

Celia wanted to deny that she loved Truett. She wanted to insist that she was independent and ambitious and didn’t need a man.

“What if I do love him? Wouldn’t it be wrong to make him love me if I had no intention of becoming a meek little wife who stayed at home and had a baby every couple of years?”

Her words conjured up the fact of Almira’s pregnancy again. Was that exactly what Almira wished for? To be a wife and have babies? And while guilt assaulted Celia for possibly hurting Almira’s feelings, the guilt over kissing Truett when she had no intention of marrying him sent another, stronger stab through her stomach.

But oh, how she liked kissing him. In fact, she wanted to kiss him again, every day for the rest of her life. What did that say about her?

That she was very, very confused. And no better than Almira. How could she judge Almira when she was so carnal herself?

“You wouldn’t marry him if he asked you?”

Should she tell Almira that he had already asked her to marry him? But she’d just gotten angry and pushed him away. Truett was probably too angry with her now to still want to marry her. He probably wished he could take it back.