“The store went there, of course,” said Kate, putting her boots by her cot, lining them up ever so precisely. “I know milk was delivered. Other than that—Ethel didn’t put in for many extra supplies. I’d assumed it must be in better condition.”
“In better condition!” Courcelles, which had come to her in a shambles, with fifty children, none of them well, looked like a prosperous mecca in contrast to Douilly. Emmie could feel tears sting the back of her eyes just thinking of it, how it had looked when she had visited for the first time last week. “There was one old man with nothing to eat with but an old tin can. He hadn’t even a spoon. Just that ancient tin can.”
“Was his home out of the way? Could Ethel have missed him?” asked Kate.
“If so,” said Emmie, “she missed nearly everyone.”
Emmie didn’t understand how Ethel could have visited, week after week, and seen only medieval ruins and quaint stories and never noticed that there were children shivering in rags. In Courcelles, which had been so terribly devastated, they had provided beds for all the children, small stoves to cook on, pots and pans and plates and blankets. Emmie had finished delivering the basic necessities before Christmas and had long since moved on to the second part of their plans: wrangling government barracks to house people living in shacks and shanties, a properly equipped schoolhouse, books, athletic equipment, and, of course, livestock and planting.
If Emmie had ever doubted that what they were doing made a difference, she had seen it then, when she had visited Douilly.
“I gave him the fork and spoon and bowl out of my haversack, and you would have thought I’d given him something marvelous and rare, he was so delighted. It made me sick, Kate.” Emmie looked at her roommate, trying to impress upon her the seriousness of it all. “I’m not exaggerating, really, I’m not. There are people there living like our people were back in September. All of the children have lice, and not a washtub among them. I don’t care what I have to do to get them, I’m going back with scissors and washtubs and fine-toothed combs. And a pump! They hadn’t even a village pump yet, Kate!”
Kate straightened. Emmie could practically see her brain ticking away, listing tasks. “We’ll need to put in a request with the Red Cross—”
“I put in a request while you were away in Paris.” It was part of her job, making requests for materials, part of the job Ethel hadn’t been doing. There was no reason for Kate to think Emmie was as slapdash as Ethel.
“Of course you did,” said Kate quickly. “I’m sure you have it all in hand. It’s a good thing the people of Douilly have you to look after them now.”
Emmie frowned at Kate. “I am perfectly capable, you know.”
Kate paused in putting clothes away in the trunk that doubled as nightstand and armoire. “Isn’t that what I just said?”
“Yes, but you shouldn’t have to say it,” said Emmie. “When you say it, it sounds like you don’t mean it.”
Kate looked at her with genuine confusion. “Do you mean you don’t want me to tell you when you’re doing something well?”
She should just leave it, Emmie knew. She hardly knew what she meant herself. But she couldn’t seem to stop herself. “When you keep telling me what a good job I’m doing, it makes me feel like someone’s golden retriever. As if you’re patting me on the head for fetching a stick.” As if Kate were looking down at her from on high and judging. “You don’t keep telling Alice what a marvelous job she’s doing with the machines or Anne how special she is for teaching woodworking.”
“They don’t need to be told,” said Kate worriedly. “You were so low this winter. . . .”
There was a reason she’d been so low. Because Kate had made her feel useless. “I’m not a child, Kate! You don’t need to hand out treats to me for good behavior. I’ve spent years doing social work. You and my mother may not think much of it, but I did learn something from it. Not much, but something.”
“I never said I thought nothing of it!” protested Kate.
“No, but you thought it.” The way Kate went still told Emmie all she needed to know. “It’s not just that. You never made a fuss about any of the others going off on their own. Ethel tramped all around the countryside without a by-your-leave. Anne walks by herself to Offoy all the time—”
“That’s because I can trust them to find their way back by supper,” said Kate, bright spots of color showing on her cheeks. “And not send me out looking for them after dark in a snowstorm!”