Page 127 of Charlotte

“What did you ask for?”

“One step.”

His right hand flexed at his side.

Then he put his hat back on, turned toward the meeting hall instead of the camp road, and took it.

Lottie watched him go.

Not away from her this time.

Toward the town. Toward the people. Toward the books, the donation table, and the small Sunday gathering waiting beneath yesterday’s bunting.

She stood beneath the maple tree a moment longer, her hand still warm from his.

Then Mrs. Schulte shouted something about Mrs. Hanford placing the hymnal too close to the cake, and Lottie gathered her skirts and hurried after them.

Even though the Jubilee was over, Cecil Peterson had come into daylight at last.

Chapter Nineteen

July 4, 1886 — The Beach and the Dock

Lottie met Delly and Jeb at the meeting hall after church.

“I brought you a picnic basket for today,” Delly said. “There is enough in there for you and Mr. Peterson.”

Lottie looked at the basket as if it might contain either lunch or heartbreak. “I don’t think he is going to want to picnic with me.”

“Nonsense. No man can resist fried chicken.” Delly handed her the basket, then picked up a second one and passed it to her husband. “This one is for us.”

Jeb lifted the basket, tested its weight, and set it back down with interest. “What’s in it?”

“Lemonade,” Delly said.

Jeb gave her a doubtful look.

Delly’s mouth curved. “And the sweetest apple pie you have ever tasted.”

Jeb laughed, caught her hand, and drew her toward the door. “Then I suggest we reach the beach before your sister commandeers both baskets, Mrs. Simms.”

Lottie watched them go, Delly’s hand tucked safely in Jeb’s, and her laughter trailing behind them like sunlight.

For a moment, the ache in Lottie’s own heart eased. Whatever had happened between her and Cecil, whatever still waited unresolved by the water, Delly had found someone who saw her clearly and loved her completely. After five years of watching her sister carry every burden alone, Lottie could not begrudge her that joy.

She only hoped, with a longing that pressed hard beneath her ribs, there might still be room in the world for hers. Clutching the picnic basket in both hands, Lottie stepped out of the meeting hall and started toward the lakeside.

That was when she saw Cecil standing near the dock with Preacher Sutton. Her heart gave one hard, foolish beat and then turned cold.

Not again.

Were they making another decision before she was invited to hear it? Had he decided on another careful, noble arrangement that involved her whole heart and none of her consent? Lottie’s throat tightened.

Cornelia sauntered by on her husband’s arm. She spied Lottie and walked over. “You may join us if you wish,” Cornelia offered.

“Thank you, no. I may just go back to the hotel.” Lottie’s eyes didn’t leave the two men under the tree. “What is he doing with Preacher Sutton?”

Cornelia followed her gaze.