Page 118 of Charlotte

Then she stopped. Cecil had not looked for her.

He was looking at Samuel. At Jeb. At the work still being done.

A week ago, she might have gone straight to him, taken his hand, and wrapped what hurt before he could refuse her. A day ago, she would have called it love.

Now she understood there were moments when love stood ready, not in command.

Instead, she stayed beside Delly and did what was needed there. Samuel was carried toward town on a makeshift stretcher, pale but alive. Mrs. Dawes came running, half wild with fear, and nearly collapsed when Jeb told her the shoulder was bad, but the arm remained. Dr. Paine met the stretcher with his black bag and a face grim enough to silence even Mrs. Hanford.

The men stood in small clusters afterward, breathing hard. Lottie’s hands were sandy. Her skirt was ruined. Her heart had not yet slowed.

Then Delly turned toward Jeb.

The whole beach seemed to notice at once that something besides the accident had reached its breaking point.

Lottie did not mean to listen, but her sister’s voice carried.

“I love you, Jebediah Simms.”

Jeb stared at Delly as if the words had struck him harder than the falling beam.

Around them, men shifted, trying not to stare and failing thoroughly. Delly kept talking. Lottie stood ten feet away with sand in her shoes and tears rising again, because her sensible sister had finally done the most reckless, beautiful thing in the world.

She had said what was true while it could still cost her. Jeb answered.

Lottie could not hear every word, but she heard enough. Wanted you since the dock. Loved you longer than I had courage to name it. If you are asking whether I still want you, yes.

Then he asked if he could kiss his wife.

Olsen gave an awkward cheer before anyone could stop him. The beach burst into relieved laughter. Men suddenly found reasons to haul lumber, gather rope, inspect nails, and become fascinated by sand.

Jeb kissed Delly in front of God, the lake, half the logging camp, and every Busy Bee who had arrived in time for the best part.

Lottie cried outright. Cornelia found her and handed her a handkerchief without comment.

“I have one,” Lottie said, accepting it anyway.

“I thought you might require reinforcement.”

Across the beach, Cecil stood apart from the laughing men. He had watched Jeb and Delly too.

Lottie knew it before his gaze found hers.

For a moment, there was no crowd between them. Not a beam, nor preacher’s words. Cecil studied her from beside the plank he had helped lift, his hand hanging at his side.

He had seen it.

Love under pressure didn’t take over.

A love that called a wounded man back to himself and trusted him to act.

Lottie wiped her cheeks. Cecil took one step toward her, and her breath caught. Suddenly Luke clapped him hard on the shoulder and said something that made Cecil look away. The moment folded back into the noise of the beach.

It had existed, and Lottie felt steadier for having seen it.

Later, when the beach had emptied somewhat, and the beam had been hauled back where it belonged, she found Cecil near the water washing sand from his hand. He shifted his shoulders when he heard her approach, but he did not turn.

“Your hand,” she said.