The First Emma by Di Maio Camille

Author:Di Maio, Camille
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
ISBN: 9781948018760
Publisher: Wyatt-MacKenzie Publishing
Published: 2020-05-04T16:00:00+00:00

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CHAPTER NINETEEN

EVER SINCE MEETING HIM at the empty pool, Mabel had imagined what it would be like to kiss Erik. She lay on her pillow imagining the feeling of his lips on hers only to recall the memory of Artie doing the same. Souring the dream of it.

When they’d been so close back at the brewery, Ernestina’s interruption came as both welcome and unwelcome. But at the theater, with no threat of interruptions, she found her resistance losing ground to the desire to be loved and cherished. She’d been on her own too long. Not only in a romantic sense, but from nearly all human connection. Not even realizing how much she missed it until the possibility of it arose.

Erik held back, even as Mabel was certain of the magnet-like pull between them. She was convinced that he felt it, too. There was a look in his eyes. A linger in his touch as he’d helped her back into her coat after they put away the paints and prepared to leave.

She knew that he had his own hurts and maybe he was wise enough to be cautious, knowing that two wounded people shouldn’t take such risks. His strength said much for his character. But despite her hopes that the war would even out the disparities between men and women, she still longed for the man to make those kinds of overtures.

If Erik wanted to kiss her, she was ready to let him. But she would not be the first one to do so.

Making good on his promise to Helga, he got Mabel back to the Koehler mansion before supper, but declined the house-keeper’s invitation to stay and eat. He said he had to return to check on the new temperature controls at Pearl.

Helga walked away from the front door before Mabel stepped in, a move that seemed to be intentional in its discretion. Perhaps she was more of an ally than she let on.

Mabel and Erik remained on the porch, its hearty marble arches casting misshapen shadows across the floor as the sun descended in the west. They’d been alone for hours in the theater, but this moment had all the trappings of a man walking a woman home after an evening out. She felt far more nervous here.

Then Mabel saw a curtain in the window next to them rustle and a little girl’s face peeked out. One of the young cousins: Lotte, if she recalled correctly. Helga appeared, her reflection distorted by the panes, as she pulled the child away.

Mabel could tell that Erik had noticed, too. He smiled and looked down as his feet.

“Well, I need to get back,” he said. “You have a good night.”

“You, too.”

He rocked back on his heels and she could hear the flutter in his voice. That told her as much as a kiss might have.

“See you soon?” he asked.

“I’d love that.”

“Tomorrow?”

“Yes.” It came out in a whisper.

She would never have guessed that so much could be conveyed in so brief an exchange. But, as she’d learned from taking Mrs.

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