Magnolia Summer (Southern Seasons Book 1)

by Melanie Dickerson

  She brushed the petals against her cheeks and chin, oddly comforted by the cool, waxy texture. She fingered a broad magnolia leaf. Smooth and green on the surface, it was tough and strong, yet brown and fuzzy and soft underneath.

  She could make it through this.

  She would make it through this summer, helping Lizzie and Will and taking care of the twins. And somehow, some way, when the summer was over, she had to get back to her real work. How else would they—would she—survive?

  Sunday dawned bright and hot. Celia got ready for church. She’d only been out of mourning for a couple of weeks and could now wear her more colorful dresses, which fit in perfectly at her church in Nashville. But here in Bethel Springs she feared she would stand out like a gypsy among Quakers.

  “Lizzie, do you think this dress looks all right?”

  Lizzie glanced up from the small looking glass on the wall as she pinned her hair up. “You look very pretty. Truett will be impressed.”

  Celia glared back at her grinning sister. “Lizzie, I’m warning you—“

  “Aw, I’m only teasing.” She smiled. “You look elegant.”

  She blew out a breath, already feeling the weight of the humid morning air. She reached for her favorite hat. As she began pinning it in place, Lizzie wrinkled her nose.

  “Not that hat, Celia. Wear something . . . smaller.”

  Celia examined the long, puffy hat with its wide burgundy ribbon trailing down the back. The multiple dyed feathers and silk flowers increased its height by half a foot. She carefully placed it back into its box.

  Smaller. It wasn’t as if she even owned one of the floppy cotton bonnets everyone around here was so fond of. She searched through her trunk until she found an old hat, now slightly out of fashion, no larger than her two fists. One side of the brim pushed up and it had only a small bow and a cluster of wax grapes at the back. At least it was the right colors, cream and mauve, to match her dress.

  Harley and Tempie bickered in the back of the wagon all the way to church. Mother had refused to come, without giving any reason. Celia had never been very close to her mother, had always been closer to Daddy, who treated her more like an adult than a child. She was the oldest and loved spending time with her father, though she suspected he’d wished she was a boy.

  Celia sat beside Will, who drove the horses while Lizzie sat with the twins in the back and tried to keep them from fighting.

  A lump of dread formed in her chest as they drew closer to the little white church. What kind of people would she meet here? Would the other young women dislike her?

  When they arrived, Will stopped the horses in the shade of a group of cottonwoods, which shed the white bits of cotton-like substance that floated through the air all around the church yard. The air was thick with it, like snow that drifted sideways instead of falling to the ground.

  Will jumped down and came around the wagon to help her. His small twelve-year-old hand held hers firmly, and she noticed the calluses for the first time. It was no longer the hand of a child, white and dimpled with baby fat. Will was still small for his age, but his hands were scratched and sun-browned, his nails broken and stained. He also displayed an easy confidence she’d never seen in him before.

  As soon as her feet were on solid ground, he sauntered off toward some boys who were calling him. Lizzie and the twins also scrambled out of the wagon and scattered.

  Celia searched the small knots of people milling around the church yard until she spotted Harley talking to an older woman. The woman bent over him with an indulgent expression.

  Where was Tempie?

  Celia glanced around until her eye caught the little girl’s bright yellow dress. She also stood chattering away to someone who squatted beside her, bringing his face even with hers. Celia blinked once, twice, then gasped. The man talking to Tempie was Dr. Beverly’s brother, Griff.

  Her face tingled as the blood drained away.

  Pursing her lips, Celia strode the ten steps it took her to reach Lizzie, who was talking to two other girls her age. She grabbed her sister’s arm and pulled her aside.

  “Celia! What in the world—”

  “Lizzie, do you see who Tempie’s talking to?” Her voice was a half-hysterical hiss, but this was a desperate situation. They had to act—before it was too late. “Help me save her!”

  “What do you mean?” Lizzie’s gaze darted from Tempie to stare at Celia with lowered eyebrows and round eyes. “She’s just talking to Griff.”

  “He’s dangerous!”

  “Oh, Celia, he’s harmless—most of the time. He’d never hurt Tempie.”

  “Never hurt Tempie? He tried to bash his own mother’s head in with a boulder!”

  “You’re overreacting.”

  It was Celia’s turn to stare at her sister. Had she lost her mind?

  She turned back to see if Tempie was still safe. Griff was tying her bonnet strings under her chin. He didn’t look as if he would hurt her. Perhaps she was overreacting, but she remembered how he’d looked when he’d grappled with Truett, making those horrible snarling sounds.

  The man’s fingers grazed her little sister’s cheek. Celia clenched her teeth and marched over to them. She bent down and swept Tempie up in her arms, forcing Griff to let go and leave the strings hanging loose. She ignored the man and walked away with her sister pressed against her chest.

  Out of Griff’s hearing, she whispered, “Tempie, if you need your bonnet tied, come to me or Lizzie.”

  Tempie pushed hard against her sister’s upper arms. “Let me down!” she screamed. “I want down. I want to go!”

  Tempie was struggling so to get down, Celia put her down. The child took off at a run back toward Griff. She immediately started tugging on his trouser leg.

  Celia held her breath, waiting to see what Griff would do. Would he become annoyed with the child? She couldn’t allow the man to hurt her little sister. She would claw his eyes out before she would allow him to harm one hair on her head. Celia’s heart was in her throat as she watched, paralyzed.

  Griff stood conversing with two men. He was exclaiming something about a “hooded horseman,” his voice animated and his arms flailing. Tempie stared up at him a moment, then wandered off toward a circle of children and began drawing in the dirt with a stick.

  Celia let out a breath of relief. But this was not over. Something had to be done. How could this dangerous person be allowed to wander unhindered amongst women and children?

  When she turned to look for Lizzie she was still talking and smiling with a group of girls her own age.

  She shouldn’t bother Lizzie with this concern. Lizzie needed time to enjoy herself with her friends. Celia bit her lip and vowed to keep her eye on Griff. The man was dangerous. Maybe no one else was aware of what he was capable of, but she’d seen it with her own eyes.

  She searched the grounds for Dr. Beverly. He also knew how dangerous Griff was. When she caught sight of him, he was talking with a young lady with upswept blond hair and a tiny hat perched on top.

  Celia started to march up to him and demand to know how much danger Tempie had been in a few minutes before. But no, that wouldn’t be very polite. Besides, seeing him with the pretty young woman and remembering Lizzie’s words to her about him, she thought better of it. If she simply approached them and demanded to speak with Dr. Beverly, the woman would no doubt think she had designs on the handsome young doctor. But as soon as that girl moved away from him, she would take up her concerns with Dr. Beverly.

  She tried to appear inconspicuous, standing at the perimeter of the church yard and not making eye contact with anyone. Her watchful gaze went from Griff Beverly to his brother and back again.

  The woman speaking with Truett smiled and even laughed as she talked. She leaned toward him, tapping him lightly on the arm with her fingertips. In reaction, he leaned away from her, moving his arms slightly farther away from her. Why couldn’t the woman take a hint and leave the doctor alone?

  As more
people arrived in the churchyard, it became increasingly difficult to keep her eye on Griff and Truett and avoid speaking to the people passing by her. A woman and her husband introduced themselves and shook her hand. Another girl, Ruby Prichard, whom she vaguely remembered from the funeral, came up to introduce her brother, Casey, who blushed when she shook his hand.

  They moved away, thank the Lord, and she flashed a look at Griff, who was still in the same place, then at Truett Beverly. The flirtatious young lady conversing with him was finally walking away, and he was staring straight at Celia. And walking toward her.

  Had he caught her looking at him? Even if he had, he couldn’t know she’d been watching him for the last five or ten minutes. She’d better be more careful, though, or she just might have him—and the rest of these people—thinking she had set matrimonial sights on him.

  Chapter 6

  Truett finally broke away from Beulah Pettibone. He’d wanted to go over and talk to Celia ever since he saw them drive up, but Beulah had cornered him, wanting to talk about the cotillion her mama was giving for her eighteenth birthday. He hoped he hadn’t hurt her feelings, but she could probably tell he was not interested in the details of the upcoming gathering.

  He strode toward Celia Wilcox. She looked perturbed, maybe even angry.

  He took her hand. “Miss Celia.” He bowed and kissed it lightly before letting go.

  She frowned. He grinned. It amused him that she seemed so wholly unimpressed with him. But he’d promised himself he would make her repent of her low opinion of him, so he’d better make some progress today. After all, he didn’t know when he’d see her again. And it kept his mind off worrying about James and Almira—and the sheriff.

  “Dr. Beverly, I’d like to speak with you.”

  At that moment the people in the yard began moving toward the open door of the church. It was time for the church service to start.

  “Of course, Miss Celia. If you don’t mind being late for church, I don’t mind either.”

  “I don’t think this will take long. I couldn’t help but notice your, ah, encounter with your brother two days ago. Then this morning he was touching my little sister, Tempie.”

  “Touching her?”

  “He was tying the strings of her bonnet. I don’t mean to be impolite, but I was alarmed. After I saw what your brother is capable of, I don’t believe it’s safe . . .”

  “Don’t believe what’s safe?” He probably shouldn’t goad her. Of course he knew exactly what she was getting at. She was afraid for Tempie’s safety around Griff. It was a legitimate concern, after what she’d witnessed.

  Her eyes were so pretty. Framed by thick black lashes, they were a dark brown, almost black, that matched her thick hair, which fairly glowed in the morning sunlight. Too bad she kept it pulled back so tightly. No feminine tendrils to hang down by each cheek like the other girls.

  “Dr. Beverly, are you listening?”

  “Of course. You were talking about Griff being a danger to Tempie.”

  She stared. “Well?”

  “It is true, Griff is dangerous when provoked or when he thinks he’s being treated unfairly. He has the mind of a five-year-old, but the body and instincts of a man. Not a very good combination, I admit. But the community has adjusted to him. I am able to recognize when he’s becoming agitated, and so are many others. I don’t believe Griff would ever feel threatened by Tempie, and I assure you, none of the men here would allow anything to happen to your sister.”

  During his discourse, she folded her arms across her chest, tilting her head to one side.

  She finally smiled—a serious smile, but pleasant. “Thank you for explaining the situation, Dr. Beverly. I can’t help but wonder, though, if you’ve considered the other options for him.”

  “You mean Bryce Hospital in Tuscaloosa?” The hospital for the insane was actually a very progressive and humane program. Truett had toured the facility once years before. The hospital was headed by Peter Bryce, the leader in the field of medicine for the mentally insane, and it had attracted doctors from all over the country—and even the world—who wished to study his revolutionary ideas, much gentler and kinder ways of treating them than were used anywhere else.

  But no matter how progressive the hospital was, Truett didn’t like being told he should send his brother there. How would she feel if he suggested she do the same thing with her mother?

  “I apologize, Dr. Beverly. I wouldn’t bring it up at all except that I’m concerned about my younger siblings.”

  He tried not to be angry with her. After all, he might feel the same way if he were in her shoes. But she didn’t know Griff like he did. Griff had a big heart. He loved people with the intensity and trust of a child. But because of his brain injury, he sometimes got agitated and confused. He sometimes lost control.

  Truett took a deep breath before he spoke. “We’ve actually considered it—at least, my father and I have. My mother won’t hear of it. She intends to take care of him as long as she lives. But as I said, your young siblings are safe. The other men of the community would intervene well before he could hurt anyone.”

  “Thank you, Doctor, for explaining.” She pursed her lips as though she still wasn’t completely satisfied.

  She’d only just arrived, but obviously she wasn’t afraid to share her opinion. Not only had she not been impressed by his poetry recitation, but she’d insinuated that he couldn’t keep his brother from being a danger to little children.

  He was in danger of losing his wager with himself. Perhaps more than ever, he wanted to change her opinion of him. He would win her over yet.

  Everyone else had already entered the church. Truett held out his arm to Celia, knowing she would bristle at having to walk into the church on his arm. Sure enough, the slight scowl on her face showed that she didn’t want to allow him the liberty.

  Still, she accepted his arm, placing her small gloved hand inside the crook of his elbow. And he liked the gentle warmth of it.

  Celia walked into the church on Truett Beverly’s arm just as the song leader was clearing his throat. The whole church stood, holding hymnals. Several people turned to see who was walking in late. Their eyes grew big as they watched Celia enter on Truett’s arm. The blond woman who had been talking with Truett narrowed her eyes and her cheeks turned red.

  She searched for Lizzie and finally saw her standing with Will and the twins—in the same pew with Truett’s mother and Griff. Lizzie scooted over and left enough room for two people by the inside aisle. Truett led her straight there, and Celia stood beside her sister. Truett picked up the hymnal in the back of the pew in front of them and held it between him and Celia.

  Dozens of eyes burned into the back of her head. As well as a few in front that were rudely turned in her direction.

  Since there weren’t any other hymnals, Celia had no choice but to share with Truett.

  She could certainly see where everyone’s thoughts had gone. But Truett Beverly was safe from her. If it were proper to do so, she’d announce it to all the unmarried women of the county.

  After singing one song, they all sat down and sang two more. Celia was careful to keep her left arm close to her side so as not to come in contact with Truett Beverly’s arm, or even his sleeve. When the preacher stood up to speak, she held her black leather Bible on her lap and got ready to turn to whatever chapter and verse he dictated.

  The man spoke slowly and precisely. He called out a Scripture verse, then rattled it off from memory before Celia was able to turn to it in her Bible. His message was good, full of admonitions to live a life worthy of the gospel, though his grammar was somewhat wanting. He called out several other verses, but again, he quoted them before she could even find the correct book.

  Truett Beverly sat perfectly still, the small Bible he’d pulled from his pocket cradled in his hands, but when she glanced at his face, he appeared to be reading the Bible instead of listening to the preacher. Why? At the end of the sermon, they sang one
more song and someone spoke a collective prayer.

  When the service was over, Celia engaged Lizzie in a conversation about the final preparations for dinner, making sure Truett Beverly couldn’t talk to her without interrupting.

  Finally, when most of the people sitting in front of them had made their way toward the back of the building, Celia stood. Dr. Beverly was nowhere in sight. She set her jaw and lifted her chin. Good, he’s gone.

  She wasn’t sure why her eyes kept darting around the churchyard looking for him.

  “You must be Lizzie Wilcox’s sister.”

  Celia turned to see a pretty girl with a pale complexion, brown hair, and a shy smile. “I am. Call me Celia.”

  The girl held out a slim, fragile-looking hand. “I wanted to welcome you to Bethel Springs. I’m Almira Suggs.”

  Truett stood outside with the rest of men, pretending to listen to their conversation about fishing in the creek. Instead, he was thinking how Celia had turned her back on him. Apparently she wasn’t interested in him, and that was for the best. Even though he still wanted to make her admit he was much more refined and intelligent than she had believed him to be, he needed to remember that he had little to offer Celia, or any woman. He would be quite ungallant if he caused her to think well of him, only to hurt her when she discovered he had no intention of marrying. Because if Sheriff Suggs ever found out he was the hooded horseman who had rescued James Burwell from his noose, Truett wouldn’t live long enough to make a woman a widow, much less a wife.

  And women generally liked their husbands living.