Page 24 of If Looks Could Kill
“But if you have a farm…,” a sister said gently.
“We sell the milk and eggs to pay the mortgage.” Pearl bit off each word crisply. “We sell vegetables to pay the taxman. There’s no grain, since there’s no one to operate the plow.”
Women began to glance from side to side, as if Pearl was sharing too much. She had committed the unpardonable sin of making them feel uncomfortable.
“And we’re the lucky ones,” she continued, “with our own roof over our heads. We still own our farm, by the skin of our teeth.”
“You’ve been very brave, my dear,” said Sister Fern McCallister softly.
But Pearl wasn’t done. “Maybe hunger motivates you to work, at first,” she said, “but eventually, you get sick.”
Baby Charlie began to fuss, and his mother whispered soothingly into his ear.
“But what’s worse,” Pearl went on, “is what it does to your sense of worth. Of whether you even deserve to be fed and cared for. Whether or not you deserve to live.”
“Goodness gracious,” sputtered Captain Jessop. “Nobody is suggesting that the poor ought not tolive. We need not resort to such melodramatic language.” She took a dainty bite of an anchovy paste sandwich on thin rye bread.
“Have you ever been hungry, Captain Jessop?” Pearl asked quietly. “Have you ever not known how long ago you ate, nor when you’d eat again?”
This is not a question one wishes to be asked while chewing an anchovy paste sandwich.
“Sister Pearl,” said Emma Bown gently, “does the Army in your area know of your mother’s needs? Surely help could be arranged, with you giving such service to the cause.”
Pearl shook her head vehemently. “She’s—I send her—” She gulped. “She’s fine.”
I send her.Her tiny allotment, which was supposed to purchase things like toothpaste and postage stamps. No wonder Pearl couldn’t afford hair ribbons. My father sent me extra money each month, which I spent along with my Army stipend without a second thought.
“My dear.” Captain Jessop, who clearly felt some repentance was in order, addressed Pearl. “You remind us, rightly, that misfortune can befall anyone, and we ought not to judge.”
Murmurs of approval greeted this reply.
“But your courage supports my point,” she added. “Look at the good work you’re doing. Your courage in not allowing poverty to tempt you into a life of sin and degradation.”
Pearl flinched.
“The deserving poor are those like you and your mother,” continued Captain Jessop. “Widows and orphans. Noble souls fallen upon misfortune. You are the ones whom Christian charity should help to become productive members of society.”
And we ought not to judge….
“Every dollar spent to feed someone leeching the system,” said Captain Jessop, “is a dollar unavailable to minister to the needs of someone like you or your mother.”
Pearl rose quietly and left the room.
All eyes turned to Commander Booth. Except mine. I watched Captain Jessop squirm.
“Sister Pearl reminds us,” Mrs. Booth said, “that everyone has a story and a cross to bear. We must be careful not to see others as labels.” She rested a hand upon Captain Jessop’s shoulder. “But take heart. I would rather we live and work together in a spirit of openness, trusting to our loving Creator to help us smooth over any disagreements that may arise.”
Pearl’s absence seemed to swallow up the room.
“What do you say, sisters?” asked Commander Booth. “Will you embark upon the experiment? Will you serve in this new ministry of Soup, Soap, and Salvation?”
None could object. Not even Captain Jessop, who sat subdued and brooding in her chair.
“I feel certain,” Mrs. Booth continued, “that the Savior would want us to keep seeking new ways to bless others. Even if our attempts don’t work, the Lord will know we tried.”
Lieutenant Dillinger raised a hand. “Where will the funds come from,Commander Booth?” Ever the pragmatic one. “How will we pay for the groceries and supplies?”
“The Lord will provide, Lieutenant,” Commander Booth replied. “He has already done so. Many of the great ladies of the city, some of its wealthiest women, have large hearts indeed. Our Ladies’ Auxiliary has succeeded in raising thousands of dollars for this initiative, and we’ll begin it right here, on the Bowery. I can think of no better place.” A mischievous smile spread across her face. “Nor a more resolute corps of women to carry it out.”
