Page 116 of Charlotte

A half-built frame stood nearer the water, meant to shade the food tables if Mrs. Schulte’s diagram could be trusted. Children were not supposed to be near the construction area, which meant several were lurking precisely near enough to be removed at regular intervals.

The lake shone bright and green beyond it all.

Lottie hated how beautiful the day was.

Beauty should have had the decency to pause.

She helped Cornelia hang ribbons near the food table. Before Lottie could ask what was next, a shout came from the platform frame.

Not a cheerful shout.

Lottie turned.

A long beam shifted where two men had been trying to brace it. One end dropped. Someone yelled for the boys to get back. Sand kicked up. Men lunged toward the timber, hands out, too late and too far.

The beam came down with a heavy, sickening thud, and a child screamed.

For one second, the beach became a confusion of running skirts, dropped tools, and men shouting over one another.

Then Lottie saw the boy.

Samuel Dawes lay pinned near the shoulder beneath the fallen beam, half in the sand, face white with terror.

Her stomach lurched.

“Jeb!” someone shouted. “Fetch Simms!”

Jeb was already moving. So was Delly.

Lottie took one step forward, then stopped because men were converging from every direction, and running blindly into the middle of the panic would help no one. That was a Delly lesson. An annoying one. Also correct.

Cecil appeared from the far side of the lumber stack. He had been carrying a coil of rope. It dropped from his left hand into the sand the moment he saw the beam. He ran toward Samuel with Luke, Olsen, and two other men close behind.

The bandage had fallen off his hand, but he made no move to hide it. Jeb reached Samuel first and dropped to his knees beside him. He looked down at the boy, and for one awful moment he did not move.

Her sister went straight to him. Not in front. Not taking the work from him. She stepped close and laid one hand against his chest, firm and low, speaking where only he could hear.

The whole beach seemed to lean toward them.

Lottie could not hear the words, but she did not need to. She knew what her sister was doing.

Not commanding.

Not rescuing.

Standing beside.

Jeb’s head lifted and nodded. His voice cut through the noise, rough and steady.

“Lever. Long plank. That block there. Four men on the far end, and no one moves until I count. We lift straight up. We do not drag him.”

Men snapped into motion.

Cecil seized one end of a long plank with his left hand and shoulder, then braced with his right before the weight could twist. Lottie could see the pain cut through him in the quick tightening of his mouth and the way he adjusted his grip.

She pressed both hands to her skirts to keep from calling out.

“Miss Bellamy!” Jeb barked. Lottie startled. “Cloths. Bring them.”