Page 37 of Magnolia Summer

Why did she feel like she’d just been tricked?

Chapter 11

Celia arrived at the dance with Lizzie, Harley, Tempie, and Will, who was using a crutch to walk.

The cotton warehouse was little more than a large shed, with only one side enclosed. It was decorated with colored paper lanterns, though the sun was still up and bathing everything in a summer evening glow. Fresh cut lilies, gladioluses, daisies, and purple bachelor buttons rose high out of butter churns decorated with yellow and pink ribbons. Bright red and blue cloths covered the refreshment tables, which were laden with fruit pies and pitchers of lemonade.

Lizzie followed the children over to the food table and helped them each get a slice of pie and a cup of lemonade. They went to sit under a shade tree, where quilts had been spread and several other children were eating, squealing, and laughing.

A bandstand stood at the enclosed end of the large, open-sided building. The players tuned their instruments—three fiddles, a banjo, and two guitars.

“Celia!” Ruby Prichard hugged her, catching her off guard.

“Hello, Ruby.”

Ruby, who was Celia’s age, had visited them a few times with her younger sister, Olean, Lizzie’s friend.

“I’m so glad you’re here, Celia. I get so nervous at these kinds of things. You’ll keep me company, won’t you?”

“Of course.” Celia allowed Ruby to link her arm in hers.

“Don’t you look beautiful! Did Lizzie do your hair? I have to get her to show me how to do that. And your dress is right pretty,” Ruby said, glancing down.

“Thank you. So is yours.” Celia had let Lizzie talk her into wearing the white muslin with the pink flowered pattern and a dark pink ribbon around her waist. The dress was a bit out of style, but it was more festive than her other fancy dresses, and her only dress that wasn’t black, dark blue, green, or a half mourning color—lavender, gray, or mauve. Celia had never noticed that about her wardrobe before. And since she didn’t have a hat to match, Lizzie had also talked her into wearing her hair curled and decorated with wildflowers, with two bouncy curls hanging down on either side by her ears. When she looked in the mirror, she almost didn’t recognize herself. The less formal style seemed to soften her features, and she had to admit, she liked the way she looked.

Ruby wore her hair in curls down her back, and her dress was similar in style and pattern to Celia’s, only with yellow flowers.

Ruby squeezed her arm. “We should have dances more often!” She giggled, then pointed and waved to Beulah Pettibone, who was just alighting from a carriage in the yard.

“That’s Beulah,” Ruby whispered confidentially. “Her daddy owns the general store. She thinks she’s so rich.” Ruby rolled her eyes, and Celia let a small burst of laughter escape.I must be nervous, too.

Beulah pranced toward them, holding up the skirt of her frilly, ruffled pink dress. “Am I late?”

“Oh, no.” Ruby smiled in a friendly way, but she didn’t take Beulah’s arm and didn’t let go of Celia’s. “You’re just in time. It sounds like the band is getting ready to start. I can hardly wait!”

“Me, too.” Beulah smiled a cat-like smile. Celia remembered her as the girl who was talking to Truett her first Sunday in Bethel Springs. The doctor and the daughter of the town’s only successful merchant. What a perfect match.

Celia’s stomach sank and she quickly dismissed the thought.

The band struck up a lively tune. People trickled forward, settling at the edge of the dance floor, tapping their toes and nodding in time to the song.

Practically every style of dress was represented. Some men wore suits, complete with vests and double-breasted tailcoats. Others were in shirtsleeves in the hot July weather. The older ladies wore gingham dresses buttoned all the way to their chins, along with cotton bonnets to shield them from the sun.

Ruby stared longingly at the dance floor. “I hope someone asks me to dance.”

Celia tapped her toes to the music. She’d missed the last two dances at home in Nashville because no one had asked her to go. It had seemed a waste of time anyway. But here in this sleepy little place, time seemed to take on a different dimension, as if there was more of it.

Too much.

A father and little girl started dancing at one end of the floor, the girl laughing as her Daddy stomped his feet so fast she couldn’t keep up.

Celia’s father had danced with her when she was about that size.

Tears sprang to Celia’s eyes. Never again would she dance with Daddy. Never again would she see him, ask his advice, or bask in his approval.

She blinked rapidly, keeping her gaze away from the father and his daughter and trying to focus on a fiddle player who sawed the bow across the strings of the instrument while rapidly jerking his body in time with the rhythm. In contrast, the banjo player stood stock still, all except his thumb and fingers, which buzzed over the banjo strings like bees in search of nectar.

Her heart slowed as she brought her tears under control. Why did she have to miss her father at such odd times? She concentrated on the music while Ruby turned her head this way and that, trying to catch sight of everyone present.