Blackstrap Hawco Read Online Free PDF Page A

‘I s’pected as much.’
    Emily lifted off the stove’s top damper and stoked the fire with the iron poker, then replaced the damper and slid the kettle into place. When she turned toward the table, she noticed that Isaac was blushing, her eyes having met his gaze of utter devotion. He shot a look toward the floor, moving his cap around in his hands, not yet having uncoiled the dirty grey scarf from his throat.
    â€˜Where Junior be at?’
    The blush now spread across Emily’s cheeks. ‘He’s doing his homework. Sit down, Isaac.’ She motioned formally toward the chair.
    â€˜Yays.’ He looked where she had pointed and inched uncertainly ahead, pulled out the chair, began to sit but then abruptly stood, waited for her to sit first, nodding nervously when she edged her chair out fromthe table and took a seat. Only then did Isaac quietly take his place across from her.
    â€˜Anudder young’n on da way.’ He smiled and blushed a deeper red, nodded and peeked at her sideways before squinting fiercely, his big, vein-streaked nose twitching. A few moments later, he realized the comment had been a mistake. ‘I seen Junior up on da hill, play’n widt da udder fellas. Young Paddy. ’Is fodder’s ’ome frum d’war, ye knows all ’bout dat, I s’pose? Not a leg on ’im, da poor feller.’
    â€˜Yes, I know.’
    â€˜Both legs blown clear off. Not a leg ta call ’is own.’ He held up two fingers, tutted and shook his head hard in bleak acknowledgement. ‘Mighty shock’n stuff.’ He stared at Emily’s belly and winked, nodded nervously and grinned, ‘God’s bless’n.’
    â€˜Yes. God bless him.’
    â€˜Finest kind.’ Isaac tipped his head, then stared at the ledge of the window beside him. He lifted his cap from where he was holding it under the table and laid it next to his mitts, arranging them carefully beside each other. When he stole a glance at Emily, he saw that she was gazing through the window, her face in profile, her pregnant beauty mesmerizing. It was only after she looked at him that he realized he had made a sound, that he had sighed or whimpered in wanting.
    Emily watched him. It was a lovely look at first, but then her eyes, tracing the features of his impish face, filled with something grim, as though she might accuse him of some unfortunate deed.
    Bowing his head, Isaac watched his grimy hands, the lines in his skin, the blackness arced beneath his fingernails. He gave a flinching shake of his head and tried scooping the black out from under one fingernail with another. Yet nothing could be removed as the black was more of a permanent stain.
    â€˜What, Isaac?’
    He regarded her and his eyes were glazed with tears. Such beauty, he thought, bowing his head again, trying to scoop the dirt out. Thy neighbour’s wife. Such treasure and beauty.
    â€˜Is something the matter?’ she asked, knowing better, knowing full well, demanding this of him. No more than a child really. Is that why she had taken him in? Had allowed him. She stood to escape thethoughts that sent her plummeting back to a play of shadows in Liverpool.
    â€˜Naw sure.’ He grinned at her, sniffing, and wiped his cheeks with the back of his hand, smearing the black. ‘Dun’t be so foolish. Dere’s nut’n da matter. I were jus’ delivering—’
    â€˜I was just delivering, Isaac. Was, not were.’ Emily glanced at the kettle which had commenced steaming. She struggled to stand and Isaac leapt to his feet to help her, taking her hand and drawing her up with such a brisk and forceful pull that she was catapulted perfectly upright and had to catch her balance.
    â€˜Woo,’ she said, steadying herself, gazing down at her feet. She then looked at Isaac to see that his eyes were on her hand, on the hand he had gripped. The black print of his fingers on her white