Page 106 of Charlotte
The little library continued to exist around her as if nothing had changed. Books stood on the shelf. Ink dried in the ledger. A child outside called for another child to stop throwing stones at a stump. Somewhere near the schoolhouse lot, a hammer struck wood.
Cecil’s library.
Her library.
The town’s library, if one wished to be annoyingly precise.
“Is Delly there?” Lottie asked.
“No.”
“Is Cecil?”
Val’s face answered before her mouth did.
“Yes.”
For one foolish moment, Lottie thought of marriage.
A preacher. Val. Cecil.
Then she saw Val’s eyes.
Not marriage.
Not joy.
Something colder moved through her.
“He went to the preacher before he came to me,” Lottie said.
Val stepped closer. “I told him no woman is freed by being removed from the conversation.”
Lottie felt panic course through her veins.
Freed.
A small, harmless word with teeth.
“How thoughtful of him to include me after being reminded I exist.”
Val winced. “My dear—”
“No.” Lottie reached for her bonnet. Her hands were steady, which surprised her. “I will hear it from him.”
They walked to the parsonage in silence.
The sun rose higher in the sky, causing her shoulders to warm underneath her summer shawl. Main Street bustled with Jubilee preparations.
Mrs. Beck had two boys hanging ribbons along the dock railings. Mr. Prentiss stood in front of the mercantile, arguing with Mrs. Hanford about whether a barrel could be draped patriotically without becoming a hazard. Looking over her shoulder, she saw the bunting above the meeting hall lifted in the breeze, square and sturdy and beautiful.
Cecil had hung it with his right hand.
Lottie looked away before the sight could undo her.
The parsonage sat beside the church, small and white, with a neat path lined with flowers. Inside, the front room smelled of lemon oil, old paper, and coffee. Preacher Sutton stood near the mantel with his Bible in one hand and his spectacles in the other.
Cecil stood by the window instead of sitting in one of the comfortable chairs.
