And there had been that room. That depressing, cabbage-scented room with its paper shades and fraying coverlet. The very picture of poverty.
Kate pressed her eyes shut, fighting hard to keep her composure. “You might have given me the choice.”
In a very small voice, Emmie said, “I was afraid if I did you wouldn’t come.”
She seemed so small—which was ridiculous, since Emmie was a full head taller than Kate. But she did. She seemed so small and so vulnerable. Kate’s heart twisted.
But then Emmie ruined it all by saying, “And you did have a choice, didn’t you? You had the choice to come or not come. I just didn’t want—I didn’t want the money to be a factor. I just—I knew that you’d be brilliant at it. And the truth is . . . I didn’t know if I could do this without you, Kate. You—you make everything manageable. Even algebra.”
But it wasn’t a choice, not a true choice.
Kate’s throat locked. She struggled to find the words to explain, but Emmie was still talking, faster now, as if determined to get it all over with.
“I know it was wrong to lie to you, Kate. I do. It was just . . . I needed you so badly.” Emmie looked at her appealingly. Kate knew that expression so well. It was Emmie’s hapless face, the one that got people to do things for her. She didn’t do it on purpose. It was just part of who she was. “You’re not sorry you’re here, are you?”
Constantly wet and freezing. Never enough sleep, never enough time. All those different personalities to manage. The challenge of it, never the same from day to day, always a new obstacle to be surmounted, a new battle to be won, a broken truck to be fixed, a reluctant bureaucrat to bully . . .
It was alarming to realize how much she’d come to love it, this strange life here. One could say many things about it, but it was never dull. Kate never felt, as she had in Boston, that she was wasting her time and her energies. It was maddening and rewarding and it suited her as nothing else had.
“No,” said Kate slowly. “I’m not sorry.”
“I was so worried at first that you were miserable and I’d done something terrible by bringing you here, but then . . . you seemed so happy. You don’t dislike it here, do you?”
Kate’s lips felt numb. “No, I don’t dislike it.”
On the contrary, she was terrified of losing it. Of Maud finding out and deciding she was hardly a real member of the Unit at all. When had she come to love it so?
“Just think what you would have missed if you’d never come!” Emmie leaned forward earnestly. “And you wouldn’t have come if you had had to pay, would you?”
Kate could feel her stomach drop, but she couldn’t make herself lie. “No.”
Emmie’s face lit up like a thousand candles on a Christmas tree. She clapped her hands together, bouncing on the balls of her boots. “You see? Oh, Kate. Surely you must see how much the Unit needs you—how much you’ve done. And you seemed so unhappy at that school in Boston. . . . So it all turned out for the best.”
“But that’s not—” Kate’s throat felt scratchy with frustration and chicken feathers. “You can’t just sweep in and decide you know what’s best for me! I’m not one of your settlement house girls, Emmie.”
Emmie grabbed Kate’s hands in hers, squeezing them affectionately. “But it was what was best for you, wasn’t it? And for the Unit. They’ve made you assistant director! That says something, doesn’t it? What does it matter who paid for what? You’re here and that’s all that matters.”
Kate stood frozen, her hands caught in Emmie’s, feeling like she’d never known Emmie—or that Emmie had never known her. “No. It’s not. You’ve made me into your debtor—your hireling. You’ve made me beholden.”
Kate saw relief in Emmie’s face and knew she’d entirely misunderstood. “Is that all? You don’t need to pay it back—I never wanted you to pay it back. It really doesn’t matter, Kate. Can’t we just forget it? You can pay your own way going forward if it makes you more comfortable.”
“Thanks,” said Kate flatly. “How big of you.”
Emmie looked at her in confusion, like a kicked puppy, and Kate felt a moment of guilt. But this was her life Emmie was playing with.
This was the job she’d given up and the trip she’d taken overseas and working in a war zone, all under false pretenses. Emmie had blatantly, openly lied to her. Because she knew Kate would mind. But she’d gone ahead and done it anyway. And kept on lying.