Page 3 of Magnolia Summer

Ruminating over it wouldn’t help. Her next course of action was clear. She had to go and help her little sister take care of her family.

Celia’s stomach twisted. She looked around at her drawings, the dresses she had designed, the patterns she had made. Her sewing materials couldn’t be contained in one basket. They were all over. What if Mother was never able to come out of her fog? Never able to deal with the younger children and the household chores? Celia might have to give up her dream of her own seamstress shop.

But she couldn’t think about that now. Her family needed her.

Chapter 2

Truett’s first patient was waiting for him when he arrived an hour late to his office after riding all night. Mrs. Lowry began talking as he unlocked the door.

“Dr. Beverly, I came by to discuss these sour risings I keep having, and to ask your opinion of the benefits of taking Dr. Pierce’s Golden Medical Discovery.”

“I think you’re safe with that particular remedy, Mrs. Lowry.” Truett motioned for her to have a seat, but she remained standing.

“Dr. Beverly—I do love calling you that.” She smirked, and the wrinkles around her eyes and mouth deepened. “You’ve grown up so handsome and tall, and such a gentleman. But you always were a good boy. If only I had a daughter instead of four ornery sons.” She sighed, her calico bonnet shaking as the fold of skin under her chin rolled over the tightly tied bow.

“But Dr. Beverly, about this medicine. My sister Lavinia says there are some tonics that are just pure alcohol. I surely don’t want to take anything like that.”

“No, ma’am. Dr. Pierce’s remedies contain no alcohol. You can read the ingredient list right on the label on the side of the bottle.”

Once he’d convinced her that that particular patented medicine was perfectly safe, she smiled and patted him on the arm.

“Tell your mother I’ll come to visit and bring her some of my plum jelly.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Truett watched her through the window as she walked down the street. Then he sat down, tipped his chair back, and closed his eyes. He said a prayer that James had had an uneventful trip north last night. Truett had ridden with him across the state line and watched him get on the train.

He felt himself drifting off to sleep.

The squeak and hiss of the train’s brakes woke him. His eyes sprang open and the chair wobbled beneath him. He leaned forward, setting all four legs back on the floor.

The scent of coal smoke wafted under the door as the train screeched to a stop. As Truett sat up and stretched, muffled shouts preceded the dull thumps of wooden crates being dropped onto the train platform as men unloaded freight that had reached its destination.

He wandered over to the window and peered between the letters painted on the glass:DR. TRUETT BEVERLY, M. D.The railroad tracks divided Main Street, and he had a good view of nearly the entire row of buildings, few as they were. The depot was just off to the right. He watched as the train cars gave up a small portion of their load.

A dainty black boot appeared on the top step of the passenger car, and a lady emerged, wearing a lilac-colored traveling suit and an enormous hat, complete with matching feathers and large flowers.

Whew-ee. He hadn’t seen the like of that hat since leaving medical school in New York City. And under it . . .

Celia Wilcox.

The breath went right out of him. She had only been to Bethel Springs once, six months ago in December. He’d never forget that day, both of them standing in front of his medical office after she got off the train. He’d been the one to tell her that her father had died. His gut twisted at the memory. She’d covered her mouth with a gloved hand, and that beautiful, well-put-together lady fell apart right in front of his eyes.

Her face crumpled and tears poured down as she gasped and sobbed.

It must have been because she was so young and pretty, tall and fashionable, but he hadn’t expected her to break down in front of him. Her tears intensified the sharp stab of guilt through his chest. He’d been called on to save her father’s life and he’d failed. Hadn’t even been able to extend the man’s life long enough for his oldest daughter to get there and say good-bye.

He’d been warned in medical school and by other doctors that such guilt feelings were out of place and unfounded. He couldn’t let them into his mind or they would interfere with his endeavors to practice his profession.

Easier said than done. And it was his first death, after all.

Truett moved to the open doorway of his office to better study her flawless features as she stood on the wooden platform beside the train, clutching her little silk purse.

Striking.That was the word that came to mind.

She was not crying today, but she bit her lip, and her dark eyebrows drew together in a crease. She glanced around. Had her brother forgotten to come fetch her? Her eyes sparkled, the sunlight making them flash. Her dark hair was pulled back and mostly hidden under that eye-catching hat. She stood alone until two men walked up and dropped a large trunk beside her.

She spoke briefly to the men—thanking them, most likely—and then gazed down the deserted street. She rubbed her temple. Might she have a headache? He wouldn’t be surprised. The train ride from Nashville was a tedious seven hours.

One of the little Posey girls wandered over. She smiled down at the child, spoke, and then glanced up the street again.