Hungry Spirits

Author:Duncan, Alice [Duncan, Alice]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Five Star/Cengage
Published: 2010-11-02T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Ten

My mouth fell open and stayed that way until I snapped it shut and rose to my feet. Astounded doesn’t half describe the state I was in at that time.

Emmaline held out a hand to me. “Daisy? What’s the matter? I know Germany was our enemy during the war, but this fellow. . . .”

I regret to say I raised my voice. “Do you know what those people did to my husband? Do you? Do you have any idea what they did?”

Emmaline shut her eyes and looked miserable.

“They shot my Billy, Emmaline! And that wasn’t enough for them. They gassed him! They gassed him! With that filthy mustard gas. Only my Billy didn’t die. No, he’s only suffered every single day of his life since that battle! He’s going to die one of these days, because they used that putrid gas on him! Before I’d help a German, I’d cut off my own hand!”

And then, as if I hadn’t already made enough of a fool of myself, I collapsed onto the chair in which I’d eaten such a delightful luncheon, folded my arms on the little table Caruthers had set up, buried my face in my arms, and burst into tears. They weren’t dainty, delicate tears, either, but huge gasping sobs.

Poor Emmaline didn’t know what to do with me. Fortunately for me, her nature is sympathetic and she’s got an open and understanding heart. She knelt beside me, put an arm over my shoulders and crooned. I don’t remember what all she said, but it was something like, “I know, Daisy. I understand completely. It was Germans who killed my Stephen, too. But this young man tried to save his life, and he was punished for it. I’d like to help him if I can, and the only program I can think of that might help him assimilate is the one offered by the Salvation Army.”

“I hate G-Germans,” sobbed I. Not a pretty picture, I know.

“I understand, Daisy. Believe me, I understand.”

Wiping my cheeks with my hands—I was too upset to reach for a hankie—I said, “Do you know that my poor husband has stocked a whole lot of morphine syrup in order to kill himself when the pain of his life gets to be too much for him? Well, he has! Because of those damned Germans!”

Emmaline closed her eyes again and looked as if she were in as much emotional agony as I, although hers was quieter. Breeding shows, I guess.

I began to calm down after a few minutes. Then I started feeling like a total fool. Sniffling pitifully, I said, “I’m . . . sorry. I just . . . I don’t. . . .” But there was no need to go on. Emmaline understood.

“There’s no need to apologize, Daisy. If it weren’t for the circumstances surrounding my request, I wouldn’t help a German cross the street. Not awfully forgiving, I guess, but it’s the truth. But this fellow—his name is Kurt Grünfeld, by the way—only joined the German army because he had to.

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