Read Online Earth Angels by Bobby Hutchinson - Free Book Online Page A

inappropriate moments. He whistled cheerfully as he lanced boils and stitched gaping wounds. He’d never noticed before how green the new spring leaves were, how sweetly the birds sang as they built nests.
    To his dismay, however, he also noticed how many men still seemed to hang around Emma’s store. The stove was unlit now that warmer weather was here, but in his opinion, the high backed chairs were all too often occupied by young men who ought to have better things to do than loiter idly.
    Surely there were fields to clear, crops to plant, stock to tend to? He’d said as much to Emma, his voice testy, and she’d just shrugged, holding her hands out in a helpless gesture, smiling at him with studied innocence. “The store’s a public place, Joseph. I’m certainly not their mother, to tell them what they ought to be doing.”
    Then don’t act their sweetheart either, he had wanted to snap at her. But of course he hadn’t.
    Thinking of that conversation now, his irritation rose all over again as he turned the bacon and got the eggs out of the icebox.
    He’d started dropping by the store whenever his surgery emptied to see Emma and exchange a few words. At least, he told himself that was his only reason for hurrying over every chance he got.
    But at four separate times in the space of one week, Oscar Macky had been there, lounging at the counter or sprawled in a chair at the back, watching Emma’s every move with his hot, dark eyes. He teased her and made idiotic, stupid jokes.
    What incensed Joseph was that Emma giggled at Oscar’s foolishness, tossing her head and teasing him back.
    George Rankin, the new young schoolteacher—also a single man—had also been in the store most afternoons. Joseph had ignored the shy young man until one day he found him reading to Emma from a book of poetry. Some ridiculous jingle had her laughing until tears came and she dabbed at her eyes an absurd scrap of pink lace. When the reading was over, she had put her arm on George’s arm in an affectionate gesture that Joseph thought was entirely inappropriate.
    “Thank you so much for sharing that with me, George,” she’d said, smiling up at him. “I do so love nonsense rhymes.”
    Joseph cracked the eggs against the side of the skillet with more force than necessary and the yolks broke. He’d wanted to shake Emma that day. Didn’t she recognize the naked adoration on George Rankin’s narrow face? It was entirely wrong of her to encourage the poor man.
    He had wrestled with the alarming emotions these encounters roused in him, trying to subdue the anger he felt at her flirtatious ways. But each day seemed to bring some new evidence that Emma was irresponsible with her affections.
    Why, just yesterday he had watched, filled with outrage, as she allowed a pathetic widower who was fifty at least to present her with a bouquet of wildflowers. She had smiled at the man with the same wide, affectionate smile she’d given Joseph just moments before.
    Then there was the memory of the afternoon he’d been getting his hair cut. Remembering that almost made him spill the eggs on the floor instead of onto the plate.
    From his seat in the barber’s chair he’d seen Emma walking down the street with a tall young stranger, talking with animation to him and tilting her head back, laughing up at him. The gentleman—if he was a gentleman—had appeared mesmerized by her, and Joseph had watched the four old men in front of the barbershop exchange knowing glances as she passed by on the stranger’s arm.
    His insides had knotted, but he’d never mentioned to her that he’d seen her. Instead, he waited for her to tell him. But she hadn’t, and when he’d finally asked her about it, she’d answered offhandedly that the man was a travelling salesman for a dry goods company she dealt with.
    Joseph placed the bacon and eggs on the table and sat down. As he ate, he realized that though he had never spoken to Emma about his feelings, if her