glow. She took a deep breath and let it out, trying to slow her thundering heart. Then, somewhere to her left, a man laughed.
Toward the rear of the building, two dark figures—a man and a woman—tried to hide in the shadows. The woman leaned back on the wall while the man pressed himself against her, one hand inside her blouse. She lifted her chin and he kissed her neck, his mouth working toward her cleavage. Then she laughed and turned her head in Emma’s direction, her red lips parted. Moonlight washed across her ivory face. It was Charlotte Gable, the young woman whose wrist Emma had squeezed outside the Company Store. When she saw Emma, her eyes went wide. She pushed the man away and pulled her blouse closed.
“Get away from me!” she said, fumbling with her buttons.
The man stumbled backward, then laughed and lunged for her cleavage again.
“Stop it!” Charlotte said, pushing him away. “I told you a hundred times, you’re too old for me!”
“Oh, I get it,” the man said. “Playing hard to get tonight, is that it?”
Charlotte shook her head and jerked her chin in Emma’s direction, her face contorted with shame and fear. The man turned to look. It was Uncle Otis.
“Shit,” he said.
Emma yanked opened the door and hurried back inside, her skin crawling with disgust. How dare Uncle Otis take advantage of a girl young enough to be his daughter? Not only was he an alcoholic tyrant, he was an adulterer, and a dirty old man. And why would someone as youthful and pretty as Charlotte behave like that with him? Emma couldn’t imagine kissing Otis’s wrinkled lips, smelling his whiskey-soured breath and rotting teeth, feeling his bone-dry hands on her body. It made her sick.
At their table, Aunt Ida and Frank Bannister were standing behind the chairs, deep in conversation. When Aunt Ida saw Emma, her face lit up.
“Oh, here she is now!” she said. “Emma, Captain Bannister would like to dance with you. He’s been waiting patiently and I’ve given him permission to . . .”
She walked past the table. “I’m leaving,” she said.
“Leaving?” her aunt said. “And going where?”
“Back to the house.”
“But it’s dark outside!” Aunt Ida said. “You can’t walk the streets alone at night. It’s not safe. Or proper!”
Emma ignored her and kept going.
“I’ll escort you!” Frank called out, following her.
The band finished the last note of a song just as Aunt Ida shouted, “Emma Malloy! You turn around and come back here this very instant!”
All eyes turned toward Emma, staring as she marched toward the main exit. Women whispered behind their hands. Men grinned and swigged their beers, eager to see what would happen next. When she reached the open main door, Clayton Nash stepped in front of her and blocked her way.
“You should probably do what they say,” he said. “It’s not safe out there.”
“Please, just let me pass,” she said, avoiding his eyes. “I can take care of myself.”
“Trust me on this,” he said. “You shouldn’t go out there alone. And they won’t let me go with you.” He leaned in and added in a low voice, meant only for her ears. “Don’t run away with your tail between your legs. It’ll only give them more to gossip about.”
She looked at him then. His eyes were filled with kindness, his forehead lined with concern. At that moment, she felt like she finally had someone on her side. But how could she know if he was sincere?
Then Frank appeared beside her, breathing hard. “Stay out of this, Nash.”
Clayton lifted his hands in concession. “I’m only telling her to be safe, to let you escort her home.”
Behind Clayton, a towheaded boy in patched knickers wandered out of a group of miners, studying the exchange with wide brown eyes. He looked to be about four years old. His face was thin, his cheeks hollow. Another, older boy came up behind him and rested his hands on his shoulders. The older boy’s expression looked pinched,
Toward the rear of the building, two dark figures—a man and a woman—tried to hide in the shadows. The woman leaned back on the wall while the man pressed himself against her, one hand inside her blouse. She lifted her chin and he kissed her neck, his mouth working toward her cleavage. Then she laughed and turned her head in Emma’s direction, her red lips parted. Moonlight washed across her ivory face. It was Charlotte Gable, the young woman whose wrist Emma had squeezed outside the Company Store. When she saw Emma, her eyes went wide. She pushed the man away and pulled her blouse closed.
“Get away from me!” she said, fumbling with her buttons.
The man stumbled backward, then laughed and lunged for her cleavage again.
“Stop it!” Charlotte said, pushing him away. “I told you a hundred times, you’re too old for me!”
“Oh, I get it,” the man said. “Playing hard to get tonight, is that it?”
Charlotte shook her head and jerked her chin in Emma’s direction, her face contorted with shame and fear. The man turned to look. It was Uncle Otis.
“Shit,” he said.
Emma yanked opened the door and hurried back inside, her skin crawling with disgust. How dare Uncle Otis take advantage of a girl young enough to be his daughter? Not only was he an alcoholic tyrant, he was an adulterer, and a dirty old man. And why would someone as youthful and pretty as Charlotte behave like that with him? Emma couldn’t imagine kissing Otis’s wrinkled lips, smelling his whiskey-soured breath and rotting teeth, feeling his bone-dry hands on her body. It made her sick.
At their table, Aunt Ida and Frank Bannister were standing behind the chairs, deep in conversation. When Aunt Ida saw Emma, her face lit up.
“Oh, here she is now!” she said. “Emma, Captain Bannister would like to dance with you. He’s been waiting patiently and I’ve given him permission to . . .”
She walked past the table. “I’m leaving,” she said.
“Leaving?” her aunt said. “And going where?”
“Back to the house.”
“But it’s dark outside!” Aunt Ida said. “You can’t walk the streets alone at night. It’s not safe. Or proper!”
Emma ignored her and kept going.
“I’ll escort you!” Frank called out, following her.
The band finished the last note of a song just as Aunt Ida shouted, “Emma Malloy! You turn around and come back here this very instant!”
All eyes turned toward Emma, staring as she marched toward the main exit. Women whispered behind their hands. Men grinned and swigged their beers, eager to see what would happen next. When she reached the open main door, Clayton Nash stepped in front of her and blocked her way.
“You should probably do what they say,” he said. “It’s not safe out there.”
“Please, just let me pass,” she said, avoiding his eyes. “I can take care of myself.”
“Trust me on this,” he said. “You shouldn’t go out there alone. And they won’t let me go with you.” He leaned in and added in a low voice, meant only for her ears. “Don’t run away with your tail between your legs. It’ll only give them more to gossip about.”
She looked at him then. His eyes were filled with kindness, his forehead lined with concern. At that moment, she felt like she finally had someone on her side. But how could she know if he was sincere?
Then Frank appeared beside her, breathing hard. “Stay out of this, Nash.”
Clayton lifted his hands in concession. “I’m only telling her to be safe, to let you escort her home.”
Behind Clayton, a towheaded boy in patched knickers wandered out of a group of miners, studying the exchange with wide brown eyes. He looked to be about four years old. His face was thin, his cheeks hollow. Another, older boy came up behind him and rested his hands on his shoulders. The older boy’s expression looked pinched,
Similar Books
