Earth Angels

by Bobby Hutchinson

  “Yes.” He seemed oblivious to the smell. “Mr. Jones had a mishap with an axe. I had to stitch his wrist and fingers.”

  Her stomach heaved. She breathed through her mouth and looked around with avid curiosity, noting the tidy rolls of bandages, the shining array of frightening instruments, precise labeling on the rows of medicine bottles. There were mortars, pestles and various sized bowls and containers aligned in even rows.

  His neatness and efficiency impressed her. She knew the value of order in business, and so, it seemed, did Joseph.

  He motioned to the plain wooden chair in the corner. “Be seated, please, while I clean this up.” He busied himself tidying the area where he’d treated Mr. Jones, whisking blood stained dressings, scissors, needles and a basin of pinkish water out of the room.

  He was back in a moment, drying his hands on a white towel, flashing her a smile that tugged at her heartstrings.

  “Now, what can I do for you?”

  She’d planned on whipping out her surprise and then singing a rousing chorus of “For He’s A Jolly Good Fellow,” but mischief beckoned. Perhaps this was a perfect opportunity to really command his attention.

  “I seem to have this strange sensation in the region of my heart, Doctor,” she said in a throaty tone, using her eyelashes to good advantage.

  “I see.”

  To her utter amazement, he wasn’t discomfited in the slightest by her teasing. “And how long have you had these symptoms, Emma?” His deep voice was filled with concern, and she realized too late that he was taking her seriously.

  Still, she couldn’t resist baiting him a little more. “For several weeks now. They come and go.”

  “Would you describe it as a sharp pain, or more of an ache?”

  “Oh, an ache, to be sure.” It amazed her to find she was actually telling the truth. She did have a peculiar sensation, like an ache, in her chest when he was near her.

  “If you would just open the button of your bodice…” He reached for a stethoscope and waited.

  The joke had gone much too far. Her face grew hot as she reached into her basket. “Actually, Joseph, all I planned to uncover was this.” She withdrew a devil’s food cake with a frothy white boiled icing that had taken her forever to whip.

  He stared at her, his forehead wrinkled in puzzlement. “I’m afraid I don’t understand. What does this have to do with the pain in your chest?”

  He really was impossible. Did he have no sense of humor whatsoever?

  “Joseph, its your birthday.” She held on to her smile, but it was becoming difficult. She carefully set the cake on his examination table. It looked incongruous beside the stethoscope.

  “Birthday?” He sounded as if he’d never heard the word. “My birthday?”

  “Yes, your birthday. The day you were born, the day most people celebrate having lived another year of their lives.”

  He simply stared at her.

  She lost her patience and her temper. “Honestly, Joseph, haven’t you celebrated your birthday ever before? My goodness, you’re making me feel like—like a frivolous nincompoop! I baked you a cake, I teased you a little about the ache in my chest, and I was about to sing you a song, but so help me, you are impossible. Why, any other man would have appreciated me trying to get him to have a little fun. But you! You don’t even smile.” She snatched up her basket and stormed out, slamming the door after her.

  When Joseph recovered his wits enough to follow her, a quiet, familiar voice stopped him. “Put some shoes and stockings on first, there’s a foot of snow out there. It’s below zero.”

  Joseph stared first at Nathaniel and then down at his bare feet. “Damnation! I totally forgot I hadn’t finished dressing. What must she think of me?”

  Nathaniel’s smile was whimsical. “I doubt it was your bare feet that sent her running, Joseph.” He studied the cake. “It looks delicious. Personally, I’ve always had a weakness for Devil’s Food. Why not put your boots on and go after her, invite her back to share some with you?”

  Joseph’s shoulders slumped. “She’ll never come back now. I acted like an idiot. I had no idea it was my birthday, I stopped paying attention to that nonsense when….” He swallowed and didn’t finish the sentence.

  “When your parents died,” Nathaniel said in a gentle tone. “I know. You closed off so many of your feelings then. Don’t you think its time to let yourself begin to feel again?”

  Joseph scowled. “I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about.”

  “Yes, I know that too.” Nathaniel sighed. “Look, why don’t you go after Emma and see if a simple apology would help? You certainly owe her one. She must have worked very hard making this cake.”

  “But—what if she slams the door in my face?”

  Nathaniel rolled his eyes. “Put your foot in the door and go right on being abjectly humble. For the love of Heaven, Joseph, you’ll never know unless you try. So go now.”

  He absolutely dreaded trying to explain his stupidity, but Joseph hurried off to find his coat and boots, his lips moving silently as he tried to formulate a suitable apology.

  But the store was locked when he got there, a simple “Closed” sign hanging in plain view. Longing to give up and go home, but knowing Nathaniel would accuse him of being a coward, Joseph went around the back of the building to the flight of stairs that led up to Emma’s living quarters.

  He climbed as if he was heading to the guillotine, and knocked as softly as he could. His hand was still raised when the door flew open.

  Emma, her soft curls disheveled, her brown eyes stormy, stared at him, her chin lifted. She kept one hand on the doorknob and the other on the frame, blocking his entrance.

  “What do you want?” She glared at him, her eyes shooting sparks. “Haven’t you done enough to humiliate me for one day?” Her voice trembled. “You must be quite pleased with yourself, you made me feel an utter fool.”

  He was taken aback by the force of her anger, and he felt so ashamed that his carefully prepared apology went straight out of his head.

  “I---Please, Miss—please, Emma, I can’t---that is, I thought—you see, I thought you were ill---you did say your heart---and I was concerned---“

  “Oh, you—you total idiot.” She stamped her foot, rage making her nearly incoherent. “Go away. This instant. You’re the—the most—most—“ Her chest heaved. “I never---ever---want to see you again.”

  The door slammed with such force he jumped back, nearly losing his balance and tumbling down the stairs. He walked home, hands shoved deep in the pockets of his overcoat, shoulders hunched against the humiliation that rolled through him in waves.

  He was aware that Nathaniel was beside him, but he had no desire to talk. Nathaniel, too, was silent.

  At last, when they were nearly home, Nathaniel said, “Maybe that wasn’t the best idea I ever had. Sorry I pushed you into it, Joseph.”

  “I richly deserved it.” Joseph was totally miserable. “I truly believed she was having heart problems. All I could think about was examining her and discovering the cause so I could help her.”

  “Of course you did, and that’s the problem.” Nathaniel’s voice was sympathetic. “You’ve fallen in the habit of seeing people as medical problems. Hearts aren’t only physical organs that pump blood, Joseph. You’ve got to learn there’s so much more to life than sickness and death. There’s happiness, peace, love. Especially love. Emma opened her heart to you, and you rejected her. No wonder she’s in a rage, you hurt her deeply.” He shook his head. “I think we’re going to have to devise something very special to make this up to her.”

  Joseph was despondent. “It’s hopeless. She’ll never speak to me again.”

  “There you go, admitting defeat before we’ve even developed a battle plan. Courage, Joseph. There’s always a solution when it comes to matters of the heart.”

  “But what on earth can I do?”

  Nathaniel thought for a long moment and then snapped his fingers
. “Valentine’s Day. The celebration of love. Start thinking about a truly unique and remarkable gift you can give her for Valentine’s Day.”

  “Valentine’s Day? But I’ve never given a woman anything for Valentine’s Day, it’s—it’s a totally frivolous concept. Besides, I’d have to buy it at her store, which is ridiculous. And I have no idea—“

  “You have over two whole weeks to figure it out.”

  “But---“

  But Nathaniel was gone. Joseph was left alone with the problem.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  On February 14th Joseph had a constant stream of patients all day long, and it wasn’t until after six in the evening he had a chance to wash and put on a fresh shirt. It was already dark as he walked to Emma’s house, carrying the gift he’d agonized over and the card he’d spent hours making.

  He climbed her back stairs and hesitated, his fist poised to knock. From inside came the sound of laughter, a woman’s high voice saying something, a man’s low tones replying, and another bout of light hearted laughter.

  Damnation! She had company. Joseph was torn between his need to see Emma and apologize and his deep reluctance to face her in front of other people.

  He’d rather face a firing squad than go through this. But the memory of her anger had haunted him and he to somehow win her forgiveness. If that meant making a fool of himself before half the town, he’d just have to suffer the humiliation.

  He ran a finger under his shirt collar, straightened his hat, cleared his throat, and knocked, heart trying to hammer its way out of his chest.

  Just as it had on his last visit, the door flew open and Emma stood there. But this time, there was no anger. Instead, she smiled quizzically at him, absolutely radiant in a low-cut red satin gown that clung to her generous curves and set off her beauty to perfection. She was so lovely she took his breath away.

  “Joseph? What brings you here?” The words were gently spoken, but wary, and her smile faded.

  He was stricken dumb. He opened his mouth, but not a sound emerged.

  “Say something or the door will close again,” Nathanial’s urgent voice whispered inside his head. It brought him out of his trance.

  “You brought me a delicious cake on my birthday,” he finally managed to croak. “So I’ve brought you this for Valentine’s Day, along with my deepest and most heartfelt apologies. Please say you forgive me, Emma.”

  She looked uncertain for an instant and cold fear suffused him. But then she was smiling again, a wide, generous smile that seemed to reach out and warm him.

  “Of course I forgive you, Joseph. Come in, won’t you? I’m having a small Valentine’s Day celebration.”

  He stepped inside. The room, bright and cheerful, filled with winsome decorations, seemed to glow with sunshine even on this dark, cold night. It was overflowing with young and old people alike, people Joseph recognized because over the past two years, he’d treated most of them for one ailment or another. Because he shunned social gatherings, he’d never encountered them as a group, however. They were sending curious glances his way, obviously wondering what he was doing here.

  Anxiety and his natural shyness gnawed at his gut and he felt horribly self-conscious and out of place as Emma took his card and opened the envelope.

  What if she didn’t understand his attempt at humor? What is Nathaniel, with all his heavenly wisdom, had been wrong? “Make her laugh,” he’d counseled. “Laughter is far too lacking on this earthly plane.” Joseph had tried his best.

  On the front of the hand drawn card, he’d sketched a remorseful and quite demented looking doctor, his huge feet bare, a stethoscope stuck in his ears, big glasses crooked and low on his large nose, tears dripping off his chin. He was holding in large, clumsy hands a heart jaggedly broken into two pieces. “Please forgive me,” the lettering on the front read. “If you don’t, you’ll break my heart..” Inside he’d printed, “I’ve been a proper horse’s-----“ and an arrow led down to a cross-eyed horse, peering round over his fat backside. His bottom was drawn in the shape of a huge valentine.

  Emma read it and looked up at him, her eyes dancing. “Why, Joseph, I’m shocked. This is really quite wicked.” She pressed a palm over her mouth and giggled.

  “Accurate, however,” he said with a remorseful grin.

  “Not at all.” She laughed outright, her eyes filled with mischief. “You’re much better looking—than the horse.”

  Joseph laughed with her, relieved beyond belief that the card had been such a success.

  A plate heaped with food was thrust into his hands. “Here ya go, young feller. Take that coat off and bide a spell. You could use some feedin’ up, yer downright skinny in places,” Granny said.

  As he removed his heavy overcoat, Granny gave him several irreverent prods in the ribs and grinned up at him, baring her toothless gums in delight.

  He smiled fondly at his old friend. “Good to see you, Granny.”

  “And you. I been sayin’ its about time ye took some jollification. Ain’t that a fact, missy?” She winked at Emma, who blushed scarlet and fingered a small locket she wore on a leather thong around her neck.

  “You certainly did say that, Granny, and you were right.”

  Joseph noticed that for some reason Emma was suddenly ill at ease, shooting Granny a reproachful look.

  Granny chortled and Emma blushed an even deeper pink. She took his hand and whisked him further into the room. “Come and say hello to everyone. You know Belinda, of course.”

  Belinda, her freckled face as fiery as her hair, looked up at him from under sparse pale lashes. “Why, Doctor Gillespie, I can hardly believe my eyes. Does this mean we’ll see you at the next church social?”

  Joseph greeted her politely while managing not to commit himself.

  “And here’s Benjamin and Prudence Irvine,” Emma went on.

  Prudence looked surprised but pleased to see him. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Doctor.” Her young husband stood up and shook Joseph’s hand, smiling a friendly welcome.

  Joseph liked the young couple, whom he knew well. They’d married the year before and Prudence was now his patient because they were expecting their first child in early June.

  He scrutinized the young woman, trying to figure out if she was quite well. Her pregnancy had been extremely difficult from the very beginning, but tonight she seemed well and happy. Benjamin’s arm twined protectively around his wife’s fragile shoulders. Joseph noticed the loving glances that passed between them, and something like envy stirred in his heart.

  Some of the guests were more welcoming than others. Oscar Mackie wasn’t his usual exuberant self. “Thought you wasn’t much for social occasions, Doc.”

  “Joseph’s turning over a new leaf,” Emma said, squeezing Joseph’s hand. “He’s decided to become a social butterfly, haven’t you, Joseph?” Her wide smile and her glance were only for him, and the affectionate use of his name lightened his heart.

  There were far more men than women present, and several of them besides Oscar seemed less than enthusiastic when Emma drew him over to say hello. She was still holding his hand, and the men gave him cool, appraising glances. Something basic and primal and deep that he’d never noticed in himself before stirred, and he enfolded Emma’s hand more firmly in his own and gave them back glance for glance.

  “Gentlemen,” he said with cool aplomb, knowing full well that battle lines were being established, and that as far as Emma’s attentions were concerned, it was every man for himself. The competition didn’t bother him. Instead, it evoked a competitive instinct he’d never known he had apart from his studies.

  During the next hour, he relaxed, joining in and enjoying the playful social banter. Old Mr. Bodsworth played the fiddle and everyone sang, first, “Jeanie With The Light Brown Hair,” and then the romantic, “Lorena.”

  “Sing us that Irish ballad your papa used sing, Emma,” Belinda urged.

  With the fiddle playing softly in the background, Emma, in a husky,
true contralto, sang, “I’ll Take You Home Again, Kathleen.”

  Joseph watched and listened, downing several glasses of the pink toned punch. He also made short work of the plates of food Granny kept handing him. And every moment, every second, he was aware of Emma, flitting from one group to the next like a crimson firefly, shining gossamer in the lamplight.

  Gradually the older people left the party, and soon there was only a small group of younger people left.

  “Blind man’s bluff,” someone suggested, and everyone shouted their approval.

  “Blind man has to kiss the one he captures,” Oscar declared, his dark, knowing eyes on Emma.

  But when the blindfold was around his head and he groped his way towards her, Emma slipped behind Belinda. And it was that giggling young woman Oscar seized and after a moment’s hesitation, gallantly kissed while the others giggled and cheered.

  “Joseph’s turn,” Emma insisted.

  He wanted to refuse, but Emma’s look challenged him. He removed his glasses and bent low so she could tie the blindfold around his head. Then he was spun around and around. Dizzy, he took a moment to orient himself, but then his nose told him exactly where Emma was—her evocative lavender perfume was like a beacon. He touched others and they laughed and slipped from his grasp, and then his hands were on her satin covered shoulders. She didn’t resist or move away. He felt tension in her softness, a quivering in her body, but when he took her in his arms, she came willingly.

  Catcalls and teasing voices rose around them, but Joseph barely heard them. He dipped his head, searching blindly for her lips, finding instead the velvety softness of her cheek. His nose bumped hers and then, like a miracle, his lips met hers.

  His heart hammered as if it were going to burst in his chest. Her lips were sweet, parting the slightest bit beneath the pressure of his. For the moment that propriety allowed, he gave himself up entirely to the kiss, feeling elated by the shudder that rippled through Emma.

  He was astounded at the depths of his own reaction. One short kiss wasn’t nearly enough. He longed to enfold her tightly in his arms, feel her breasts crushed against his chest, her body close to his. Instead, he released her and the blindfold was snatched from his face by Oscar.