Free Courting Trouble by Deeanne Gist Page B

long lashes, shone with joy. Dimples framed her mouth.
    Bending down, he placed one hand on the back of her chair and the other on top of the barrel, and kissed her while she clutched his baby in her arms.
    It was a fleeting kiss, the barest of touches, really. But when he pulled back, he pulled back only an inch. Just enough to see her lips, smell her scent, feel her breath.
    He acknowledged his desire, then cupped Essie’s chin and kissed her again. This time with the intention of finding out just exactly what the town spinster was made of.
    Mae began to protest and Essie pulled back. ‘‘Hamilton,’’ she whispered, ‘‘I’m not at all sure this is proper.’’
    He felt a quick pang of guilt. Whether it was due to feeling desire for a woman he didn’t love or for feeling desire at all, he didn’t know.
    ‘‘You’re right,’’ he said, straightening and pushing his glasses up his nose. ‘‘My apologies.’’
    A look of confusion crossed her face. ‘‘Oh, please don’t apologize. Never tell me you’re sorry, Hamilton. Are you?’’
    He lifted Mae into his arms. ‘‘I’m afraid I won’t be able to help you tally these votes tonight, Essie. Perhaps we could do it in the morning?’’
    She rose, concern etched onto her face. ‘‘Are you angry with me?’’
    ‘‘Not at all.’’
    ‘‘You’re acting angry.’’
    ‘‘No, I’m not. You know what I’m like when I’m angry and this is not it.’’
    She tucked her hair back up into her pins. ‘‘I see. Well, then, I’ll just, um, let myself out. Good night, Hamilton. Good night, Mae.’’
    ————
    Essie reread the paragraph for the umpteenth time, but still her thoughts wandered. She glanced at her mother, envying her ability to sit calmly in her parlor chair stitching an ornate S on the corner of her handkerchief, as if she hadn’t a care in the world. As if it were only another ordinary Sunday afternoon.
    ‘‘Is the book not to your liking, dear?’’ she asked.
    ‘‘Where is he, Mother?’’ Essie asked.
    ‘‘I have been thinking,’’ she said. ‘‘I don’t believe I shall plant morning glories along the front verandah next year. Have you noticed how many bees they attract?’’
    Essie looked out the parlor windows, accepting her mother’s none-too-subtle change of topic. ‘‘I like the sound of their humming. It’s soothing.’’
    ‘‘It’s distressing. And a constant reminder you could be stung at any moment. No, I shan’t plant them so close to the house again. Have you any suggestions for their replacements?’’
    Essie sighed. ‘‘No, Mother. I haven’t the slightest idea.’’
    She and Hamilton had announced the snake’s name and the winner of the camera yesterday amidst much fanfare and excitement. By day’s closing they’d had record sales. But Hamilton had been distant and distracted.
    Essie had been beside herself with excitement. He’d kissed her. All that was left was for him to make his declaration to Papa. He’d said nothing of their kiss all day yesterday, nor should he. But she’d relived it a thousand times in her mind.
    This morning she’d taken great care in preparing for church. He’d treated her the same as he always did, greeting her and her family with the friendly politeness he greeted everyone else with. But the entire time, she knew he would be coming to the house today to make his declaration, for he’d told Papa he’d be by before the day was up.
    Turning the page, she surreptitiously smoothed out the pieces of paper she’d inserted into the book. Fredrick Fouty, Charlie Wedick, Winston Peeples, Hamilton Crook .
    She paused, reviewing the assets and drawbacks she’d assigned to Hamilton. If she redid the list today, she’d have so much more to put in his ‘‘asset’’ column.
    ‘‘Did you hear the news at church?’’ Mother asked.
    ‘‘I’m sorry?’’ Essie said, looking up from her musings. ‘‘Did you say news?’’
    ‘‘Yes. I heard that