Read Online Earth Angels by Bobby Hutchinson - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Bobby Hutchinson
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behavior didn’t change, he would just have to show her in no uncertain terms the error of her ways.
CHAPTER SEVEN
In mid April, Joseph escorted Emma to the church social. Her dress was as blue as the evening sky, with enormous sleeves and an intriguing ruffle of white lace not quite covering the tops of her full breasts. Her curly blonde hair was drawn up into a high knot, her cheeks were a delicate pink, and her brown eyes sparkled.
Joseph felt as if his chest would burst with pride when he walked into the crowded church hall with her clinging to his arm.
The band, two fiddles and an ancient piano, tuned up and then burst into a spirited polka.
Joseph hesitated, aware he wasn’t much of a dancer, and before he could gather his nerve and figure out the steps, Oscar Macky had whirled Emma away.
Joseph swallowed hard and tried not to notice her skirts flying high around her shapely legs as she twirled, with Oscar’s hand clutching her narrow waist.
She went straight from Oscar’s arms to Lucas Fowler, a pot bellied old patient of Joseph’s, and from there to George Rankin, who in Joseph’s opinion held her much too close. She didn’t seem to object, and then Oscar was whirling her around in a waltz, and her face was tilted up to his, her smile bold and inviting.
Joseph seethed. Emma was at it again. He made his way onto the dance floor and cut in, utterly furious at her and at Oscar. He stepped on her toes twice and was doing a miserable job of waltzing, but she pretended not to notice, gazing at him with a misty smile.
“I do love dancing, Joseph.” She tilted her head so her mouth was close to his ear. “And I love you, too,” she whispered.
Slightly mollified, he tried a dip and a swirl and even managed a smile, but his smile faded because before the waltz was even ended, she was swept away again. He made his way to the refreshment table, wishing there was something stronger than grape juice in the punch. He didn’t know how much more of this he could take.
What seemed like eons passed. By the time the musicians had laid down their instruments and everyone bid each other a cheerful good night, he had watched Emma dance with every man in the room, single, married, old, young. And she’d beamed up at each of them, chattering, giggling, tossing her curls, showing off her ankles. Flirting, laughing, teasing.
She’d danced with him exactly twice, and his simmering anger was ready to explode at Emma—and the entire male population of Demersville. She was toying with his affections. She was the woman he loved, and tonight she’d forced him to suffer an emotion he’d never before had cause to feel and resented feeling now—burning, torturous jealousy.
Joseph escorted Emma home, barely responding to her giddy chatter. He climbed the stairs behind her, politely took her key and opened the door, and then stood aside for her to enter.
She lit the lamp and then looked at him, “Come in, Joseph. You are staying for a time, aren’t you?”
“I think not.” His tone was formal and very cool.
She frowned. “You’re angry, aren’t you?”
He didn’t answer.
“Why are you angry?” She sounded confused and hurt. “Didn’t you have a good time at the dance?”
“If being forced to watch you dance and flirt with every man in the room is having a good time, then I had a perfectly wonderful evening.” His tone was scathing.
“Why, you’re jealous. There’s no need to be. Those men happen to be my customers and my friends, Joseph.” Her voice trembled. “So are their wives and sweethearts. Refusing to dance with them would have been an insult.”
“So all that flirtatious merriment was simply good customer relations, is that it, Emma?” He added in a caustic tone, “You seem to be on rather intimate relations with some of those men.” His anger was making him say things he knew he shouldn’t, but he couldn’t stop the cruel words from pouring out. “In fact, I began to
CHAPTER SEVEN
In mid April, Joseph escorted Emma to the church social. Her dress was as blue as the evening sky, with enormous sleeves and an intriguing ruffle of white lace not quite covering the tops of her full breasts. Her curly blonde hair was drawn up into a high knot, her cheeks were a delicate pink, and her brown eyes sparkled.
Joseph felt as if his chest would burst with pride when he walked into the crowded church hall with her clinging to his arm.
The band, two fiddles and an ancient piano, tuned up and then burst into a spirited polka.
Joseph hesitated, aware he wasn’t much of a dancer, and before he could gather his nerve and figure out the steps, Oscar Macky had whirled Emma away.
Joseph swallowed hard and tried not to notice her skirts flying high around her shapely legs as she twirled, with Oscar’s hand clutching her narrow waist.
She went straight from Oscar’s arms to Lucas Fowler, a pot bellied old patient of Joseph’s, and from there to George Rankin, who in Joseph’s opinion held her much too close. She didn’t seem to object, and then Oscar was whirling her around in a waltz, and her face was tilted up to his, her smile bold and inviting.
Joseph seethed. Emma was at it again. He made his way onto the dance floor and cut in, utterly furious at her and at Oscar. He stepped on her toes twice and was doing a miserable job of waltzing, but she pretended not to notice, gazing at him with a misty smile.
“I do love dancing, Joseph.” She tilted her head so her mouth was close to his ear. “And I love you, too,” she whispered.
Slightly mollified, he tried a dip and a swirl and even managed a smile, but his smile faded because before the waltz was even ended, she was swept away again. He made his way to the refreshment table, wishing there was something stronger than grape juice in the punch. He didn’t know how much more of this he could take.
What seemed like eons passed. By the time the musicians had laid down their instruments and everyone bid each other a cheerful good night, he had watched Emma dance with every man in the room, single, married, old, young. And she’d beamed up at each of them, chattering, giggling, tossing her curls, showing off her ankles. Flirting, laughing, teasing.
She’d danced with him exactly twice, and his simmering anger was ready to explode at Emma—and the entire male population of Demersville. She was toying with his affections. She was the woman he loved, and tonight she’d forced him to suffer an emotion he’d never before had cause to feel and resented feeling now—burning, torturous jealousy.
Joseph escorted Emma home, barely responding to her giddy chatter. He climbed the stairs behind her, politely took her key and opened the door, and then stood aside for her to enter.
She lit the lamp and then looked at him, “Come in, Joseph. You are staying for a time, aren’t you?”
“I think not.” His tone was formal and very cool.
She frowned. “You’re angry, aren’t you?”
He didn’t answer.
“Why are you angry?” She sounded confused and hurt. “Didn’t you have a good time at the dance?”
“If being forced to watch you dance and flirt with every man in the room is having a good time, then I had a perfectly wonderful evening.” His tone was scathing.
“Why, you’re jealous. There’s no need to be. Those men happen to be my customers and my friends, Joseph.” Her voice trembled. “So are their wives and sweethearts. Refusing to dance with them would have been an insult.”
“So all that flirtatious merriment was simply good customer relations, is that it, Emma?” He added in a caustic tone, “You seem to be on rather intimate relations with some of those men.” His anger was making him say things he knew he shouldn’t, but he couldn’t stop the cruel words from pouring out. “In fact, I began to
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