Page 41 of Magnolia Summer

Truett leaned toward her and let his gaze fall to the floor, breaking the spell. “That was Lord Byron, by the way, lest you think I wrote it myself.”

Celia managed to find her voice. “I knew that, though I’m sure you could write something just as lovely. Truett Shakespeare.” She gave him a coy look out of the corner of her eye.

She was surprised at herself—flirting, actually flirting, with a man.

She’d never had so much fun in her life.

They had to stand side-by-side for the next dance, holding hands. Several other couples joined them on the floor. Celia reveled in the warmth of his hand holding hers in a firm grip. Never had she felt this way. It was disconcerting and exciting at the same time. Perhaps she should stop herself now. After all, where was all this attraction and flirting and dancing taking them? Wherever it was, it wasn’t in her plan.

Celia’s palms started to perspire. What if she got herself into something she couldn’t get out of? She was starting to care about Truett Beverly. This must be how it had started between her mother and father. A dance, a touch of the hand, attraction to a kind, intelligent, handsome man. The next thing you know, you’re trapped for life.

The music began for the Schottische. She had to push these thoughts away and concentrate on the dance steps or she’d end up falling or tripping or otherwise embarrassing herself. She’d have to think through this situation after this dance was over. Perhaps she could get away by herself, use the excuse that she was fatigued.

The dance was her favorite, and soon she was twirling in Truett’s arms. She couldn’t remember what she was even thinking about before, only how warm his hand felt on her back, guiding her through the steps of the dance, whirling her around again and again.

At one point in the dance, they had to briefly change partners, and Celia found herself dancing with Curtis Suggs. Her back went rigid the moment he touched her. He smirked and asked, “Are you having a good time?”

“Yes, I am.” She stared him in the eye and dared him to look down.

She was so happy when she returned to Truett’s arms that she almost laughed out loud.

When the dance was over, Truett held her hand and led her to the outside edge of the dance floor. If she was out of breath before, she was much more so now. She concentrated on slowing her breathing.

Wasn’t she supposed to do something when the dance was over? Truett’s smiling eyes and strong grip sent a tingle down her back. She couldn’t remember.

Truett’s features grew sober. “If Curtis Suggs bothers you, you let me know. I’ll take care of him.”

Celia shook her head. “He wouldn’t dare.”

“I just don’t want anyone frightening you . . . although it’s hard to imagine that anyone could.” One corner of his mouth lifted in a half-smile, then his gaze focused on her lips.

Celia found herself staring at his lips, too. How would it feel to kiss him?

She turned her head away and gulped a deep breath of night air, clearing her head of the slight but distinct smell of his bergamot and rosemary cologne. Had anyone seen them staring so brazenly at each other? Did they know what she was thinking? Her cheeks grew hot just thinking about it.

Blushing. Another thing to add to her list of things she never did before she met Truett Beverly.

“Shall we get some lemonade?” Celia gently extracted her hand from his.

He nodded. She took his arm as they strolled toward the refreshments.

Darkness had overtaken the lingering sunset, and now their only light was from the lanterns.

Truett handed her a cup and she looked around for the rest of her family. Will stood propped on his crutch talking to some boys. Lizzie was huddled in a tight knot with her friends, giggles erupting every few seconds. Her mother sat on a blanket, with Harley and Tempie racing several other children in a crazy course that wound around trees and groups of standing adults. Mama was looking around at everyone with a slightly confused expression. At least she wasn’t staring off into space.

“Is everyone all right?” Truett drank from his cup.

“Yes, they all seem to be having fun. Except Mother. I probably should get her and the twins home before much longer.” She frowned ruefully, her heart sinking at the prospect of leaving.

Just then, Mrs. Beverly approached them where they stood in the shadows near the refreshments. “Oh, Celia, don’t you look lovely! I’ve never seen your hair so fetching.” Then she turned to the man who was striding up behind her. “Celia Wilcox, I want to introduce you to my husband, John Beverly.”

Celia smiled. “How do you do Mr. Beverly?”

“Miss Wilcox, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” He squeezed her hand and smiled pleasantly.

Celia took note of how handsome Truett’s father was, for all his gray hair and creases around his eyes. He resembled Truett but lacked a certain gentleness of expression that graced his son’s countenance.

Mrs. Beverly turned to her son. “Truett, darling, I believe your father, Griff, and I are going.” She squeezed his forearm. “You stay here with Celia and escort her and her family home, won’t you?”