Page 80 of Magnolia Summer

Once she put Tempie on the floor, handed her a book and pointed at her tea set, the child stopped crying. She didn’t even wipe off the tears still clinging to her cheeks as she reached for the book and calmly opened it to the middle, showing the picture to her doll.

Celia went back to where the Sheriff waited, every nerve jumping, straining to get away.

“Won’t you come in and sit a while?” She gave him a weak smile and stepped back, inviting him into the front room.

He shook his head. “I just have a bit of business to discuss.”

They continued standing on the porch. The sheriff’s expression seemed too nonchalant for a man on the hunt for his daughter. If he’d suspected Almira was there, he would have barged right in. Celia’s heart began to slow back to normal.

“Of course. What is it, Sheriff Suggs?” She gave him what she hoped was an innocent, curious smile as she gazed up at him, noticing dried brown spittle at the corners of his mouth.

“Bethel Springs is needing a school teacher and several folks suggested you, Miss Celia, as the most educated woman around. We’d like you to take the job come September first.”

“Oh.” Should she pretend she didn’t know Almira was missing? What should she say?

“You might be wondering about Almira. She won’t be back to teach this year.” His jaw hardened and a muscle convulsed in his cheek.

“Yes, Ruby told me something about Almira leaving. Do you know where she went?” She stared at him with wide, innocent eyes.

Sheriff Suggs turned his head and spat off the side of the porch. At least, Celia sincerely hoped the tobacco juice made it off the porch.

“Almira ran off. She won’t be back.” His small dark eyes bore into Celia in a way that made her heart start hammering again.

“I’m sorry to hear that. The truth is, Sheriff, I’ve been hoping to find a buyer for our farm here so we can move back to Nashville. If I get a good offer, we’ll be leaving.”

“Well, if you don’t get an offer, the job’s yours. Good day, Miss Celia.” He clapped his hat back on his head and turned to leave.

Relief washed over Celia like a waft of cool air. She pulled a nice long draught of it into her lungs.

“Thank you, Sheriff. I’ll let you know as soon as I can.”

He mounted his horse and tipped his hat without even looking at her. Then he rode away down the lane. She stood watching him, making sure he was truly gone before she went back in the house.

Celia went into the bedroom but didn’t see Almira anywhere. “You can come out now.”

Almira scooted out from under Celia and Lizzie’s bed. “Is he gone?”

“He’s gone.” She helped Almira up. “He doesn’t even suspect you’re here.” Celia couldn’t help the grin of triumph on her face.

Almira’s hand shook when she lifted it to brush back her hair. She chuckled nervously. “Thank God for that.”

* * *

When Sunday rolled around again,Celia felt sorry for Almira, stuck hiding in the house while they went to church. When Celia asked if she was tired of being shut up all the time for the second week, Almira only smiled and said, “No. I like it here.” But there was sadness in her eyes. Almira must be missing James even more than Celia missed Truett.

She hadn’t spoken to Truett in almost two weeks. He hadn’t even been to the house to see Will. Was he really that angry with her? It was a shame her conflicts with Truett were taking away Will’s friend, the man he looked up to and learned from. She sighed, wondering for the thousandth time how she had managed to make things so complicated and messed up.

“I’m so sorry, Will.”

Will, seated beside her on the wagon, turned to her with a puzzled look. “What are you sorry for?”

Celia frowned. They were almost to church.

“I’m sorry Truett hasn’t been coming around. I’m sure it’s my fault. He’s just angry with me, but he’s crazy about you. You’re like a brother to him. I hope you know that.”

Will gave her his crooked half smile and shook his head to sling the swatch of blond hair out of his eyes. He needed a haircut. She’d have to cut it when they got back home.

“Don’t worry about it, Celia. And I’m sure he’s not mad at you—at least, not for long. He’s a forgiving kind of man.”