Page 103 of Magnolia Summer

“They look as if they are nearly recovered.”

She felt nervous as she smiled first at Griff, then at Truett, but when he winked at her, her smile widened and she nearly laughed.

Celia longed to sit beside him and hold his hand through the church service. But that would not be proper, as there had been no official announcement about their plans to marry. Instead, she sat in another pew with her family.

After three songs and a prayer, Preacher Massey, apparently recovered from his summer ague, stood to deliver the message. “‘Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends.’ One of us here today can boast this kind of love. Griffith Beverly. His noble, selfless acts will become a legend in these parts . . . a true story the people of Bethel Springs will tell their children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren, of how he risked his life to deliver innocent men from the noose of a lawless sheriff.

“Griff is known by all, but did any of us realize what a big heart he has? Did any of us know what a difference he would make in Bethel Springs and Madison County?” Preacher Massey solemnly bowed his head. “Let us pray.”

After the sermon, Celia stood with the congregation to sing the final song. As she did, she noticed several people looking over their shoulders. She turned too. Isaac and Sam stood at the very back row, along with Annie and several others from Annie’s family. Celia gave a tiny wave, and Annie smiled and waved back.

When the last song was sung and the last prayer said, Celia hurried into the aisle, but Annie and her family were gone.

When Celia and her siblings arrived back home, they found Mama in the kitchen, cooking.

“It’s for the Beverlys. They have two sick boys, and I wanted to bring them some dinner.”

Celia, Will, and Lizzie stood frozen.

“Aren’t you going to help me?”

“Of course.” Celia and Lizzie helped Mama while Will went to fetch the wagon. They loaded up all the dishes and drove over to the Beverlys. When they arrived, Mrs. Beverly insisted they all stay and eat with them, as there was so much food.

After dinner, Celia watched as Mama, looking almost like her old self, with her hair freshly combed and pinned into a bun on the back of her head, spoke quietly to Mrs. Beverly. She was much thinner and her black dress hung loose on her hips, but Mama was talking again. Somehow, the shock of recent events—the sheriff catching James in their house and taking Truett to jail, followed by the news of the two Beverly “boys” being shot and the sheriff himself being arrested—had reached through her grief, jolting her out of her stupor.

Celia, Lizzie, and Will exchanged several looks but didn’t mention her startling change, afraid Mother would retreat into herself again if they said the wrong thing.

Celia sat in a chair in the corner as Truett and his father discussed politics nearby. Griff was sitting quite still on the sofa, staring at Tempie and Harley as they sat on the floor, playing with wooden soldiers.

How different this day would have been if Suggs’s bullet had struck just a few inches lower. The mirror beside Celia would have been covered in black crepe, and the clock on the mantle would be stopped at the time Griff had been shot. Or if the bullet that struck Truett had been several inches higher, they would be having a funeral today instead of a relaxing Sunday afternoon eating and talking with friends.

The painful thought stole her breath. Her hand shook as she pulled out her fan and used it to fan her face, taking slow, deliberate breaths.

Mr. Beverly was talking now with Will and Lizzie about their nearby pond. Soon, they were standing and heading out to see if they could find any ducks or geese. Even Mama was going with them, walking beside Mrs. Beverly.

Truett stood too, but instead of going with them, he strode toward her, his eyes riveted on hers. He reached for her hand. Celia stood and he led her into a tiny alcove under the stairs. What was he about?

* * *

Truett could no longer stand beingin the same room with Celia, but not able to talk with her alone. He needed to hold her, just for a moment, to relieve the ache in his chest.

He led her to the only place he could think of where they might get a moment of privacy—under the stairs in the hall between the kitchen and the parlor. He backed himself against the wall, into the corner, and she came willingly into his arms, burying her face in his neck. He held her tight, pressing his cheek against her hair, and took a deep breath.

“I’m so glad Griff is going to be well.” Celia whispered.

“I know. Me too. When we were children, before his head injury, he used to take me fishing.” It was a random thing to say, but he’d been remembering that all morning. “Since the gunshot wound, he’s been so much calmer. But he could have been killed.” We both could have.

He stood still, holding her. She was so soft and warm. “It’s my fault,” he whispered.

“Oh no, Truett. Of course it’s not.”

“He followed me to the cave. I thought I heard someone. Now I know it was Griff. That’s how he knew where to find the cape and hood. He heard people talking about the sheriff going to hang those two men and went to stop it. He was fascinated by the hooded horseman, and I knew that.”

“It wasn’t your fault at all. But everything is going to be all right. That’s the important thing. You’re both going to be all right.”

He concentrated on her words and ignored the painful taunts that had been plaguing him the last three days. God was merciful. He hadn’t allowed Griff to be killed, sparing him and his family from crushing pain.

Truett pulled back and brushed her cheek with his knuckles.Celia.She was everything he wanted. To think that a few weeks ago he’d felt tormented by thoughts of her. Now . . . he wasn’t sure he could bear to be without her.