Page 95 of Charlotte
Luke became fascinated with the two sides of the digger. The moment had shifted, but it had not broken. Lottie could feel that as surely as she could feel the folded drawing against her bodice.
Cecil had given her his name.
He had shown her the library and admitted it was not pity. However, he had not promised to marry her.
That was the next battle.
She looked at the staked-out ground, then back at him. “When will the building begin?”
“Soon as Stafford can spare the men and the town approves the lumber.”
“The town will approve it.”
“You sound sure.”
“I am sure.” She glanced toward the meeting hall and thought of Mrs. Beck’s cookies, Mrs. Schulte’s lists, Mrs. Hanford’s rules, Cornelia’s steady faith in children, and Delly’s ledger columns. “This town loves a cause almost as much as it loves meddling.”
“That may be true.”
“You have given them both.”
He looked at the schoolhouse lot. “I only asked a few questions.”
“You started a library.”
“You started the library.”
“I brought the books,” she said. “You are giving it walls.”
Cecil’s gaze returned to hers.
For a moment, they stood on either side of the marked foundation, looking at what was not yet built and all that already was.
Then he said, very quietly, “I still do not know if I can marry you.”
The words hurt, but they did not surprise her.
Lottie nodded once. “I know.”
“You should be angry.”
“I am.”
He blinked.
“I am also patient,” she said. “The two qualities are not mutually exclusive.”
Luke made a strangled sound from near the post-hole digger. Cecil ignored him, though his mouth betrayed him again.
Lottie stepped back toward the path. She did not want to leave. That was precisely why she knew she should. He had given her a great deal today. If she pushed for the rest now, he might try to take back what he had offered.
“I will be at the meeting hall,” she said. “I have a library to run while you build another one behind my back.”
“It was beside the schoolhouse.”
“That is not a moral distinction.”
His eyes warmed. “No.”
