Page 96 of Magnolia Summer

Her eyelids fluttered and she lifted her head. “How are you feeling? Are you sure you don’t need to lie down? Has it stopped raining?”

“Not bad, yes, and yes.”

“We’d better go, then.”

She put her arms around him and let him use her shoulder as a crutch to help him up. He stayed propped against the wall until she could bring Colonel to him, just inside the mouth of the cave.

He stuck his foot in the stirrup, his hands on the pommel, and tried to propel himself into the saddle, but the pain stabbed all through him and he weakly fell back to his feet. With his next attempt Celia helped, pushing him up, and he finally managed to throw his leg over and pull himself into the saddle.

He closed his eyes, unable to breathe. The pain was so intense he almost lost consciousness. He rested his forehead on his horse’s neck.

Celia took the reins and led them through the woods.

It was almost completely dark when Will met them in the back yard. Will and Celia helped him off Colonel and half carried him inside. The pain was more intense than ever after the jostling he’d taken in the saddle. Sweat broke out on his forehead again, even though the rain had cooled things off.

“You can have my bed, Truett.” Will grinned at him, but there was fear in his eyes.

Truett grabbed Will’s arm. “Will, I need you. . .” He had to pause to catch his breath, as the pain was making it hard to breathe. “. . . to tell me . . . if you see . . . the sheriff.”

“Sure will, Tru. Don’t worry, now.”

Not sure howlong he’d been lying in bed, Truett opened his eyes to Celia standing over him with glass of dark red liquid. Her voice seemed to come to him through a fog. “. . . Father’s medicinal wine.”

She slid her arm behind his back and raised him up, holding the glass to his lips. He drank a few sips and closed his eyes. She murmured something soothing and he drank some more, and then she eased him back onto the pillows. He immediately drifted into a strange dream about being chased by a bear with a big human nose and long, sharp claws.

The next morning Truett awakened long enough to eat a little bread. He gulped two glasses of water and then drank some warm tea. Celia was so happy to be able to tell him what she’d heard from Ruby—that Annie’s father and uncle had escaped from the sheriff and were hiding where Suggs was unlikely to find them. Then Truett went back to sleep.

* * *

Celia stood in the doorway,watching him sleep. He was so very dear.

She pressed a hand over her mouth. He actually loved her.

Since Will had discovered the patch of ginseng, Celia could go back to Nashville. The prospect filled her with excitement, but also with sadness and dread at the thought of being so far away from Truett. Would he still want to marry her if she went away? How long would they wait? Would she ever have her own shop? Questions whirled in her brain, but still, that old desperate feeling didn’t come back. Somehow, things would work themselves out.

Celia sighed. He was so noble and courageous. He deserved love and admiration.

She was such a selfish person, not like Lizzie and Will, who never asked for anything for themselves. They served the family and loved and cared and never tried to protect themselves with distrust and a hard heart—like she had.Oh, God, I don’t deserve him. I don’t even deserve my family.

My grace is sufficient for you.

Celia whispered softly, “God, I don’t deserve You, either. But your grace is sufficient for me.”

Lizzie hurried toward her. “Why are you crying? Is Truett all right?”

Celia wiped her face with her hands. “Everything’s all right. I’ve just been stupid, that’s all.”

Lizzie hugged her, and Celia hugged her sister back.

“Someone’s here.” Almira’s words drifted to them from the front parlor.

Celia and Lizzie exchanged a wary look and hurried toward Almira, who stood staring out the window, one hand clutching her neck.

“What are you doing, Almira?” Celia couldn’t imagine why she was still standing there.

“Shouldn’t you go hide?” Lizzie asked, touching her arm.

Almira didn’t move. Her eyes misted over. “It’s him.”