14 September, 1954

“Oh, Kirra, can you fetch me that towel there? I’ve kind of got my hands full here.”
 
“Of course. Here you go, Emma. Don’t you think he’s old enough to be taking his own baths by now?”
 
“If I don’t wash this little fiend, he just stays dirty! And we’re supposed to have some prospective parents coming by in half an hour, so I want to make everyone presentable.”
 
“But that’s wonderful! First ones in a couple of weeks now, isn’t it?” I finished emptying the laundry basket and returned it to my hip, turning to face Emma as she finished toweling down the tousled 9-year-old boy between them.
 
“There you are, Kurt. Now go get your clothes on. And make sure its the clean ones I laid out for you!” She gave the child an affectionate little smack with the towel on his bare bottom as he started to dash away towards the door to the dormitory. Smiling, she started to fold the towel as she turned back to me. “More than three, actually. No one’s come by since the ones that were here the last time you were away. Where do you disappear to all the time, anyway?”
 
I laughed convincingly, “I only volunteer here, Emma. I have to support myself, after all. Sometimes my work requires that I travel.” We fell in step together in the hall and began to walk back down the stairs, towards the laundry room.
 
“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be nosy. And I do appreciate all the help. I don’t know how I’d manage on my own, even with all Miss White’s aid. It’s enough to keep this roof over all our heads, and keep food on the table, certainly, but I could never afford to pay for full time help. So I am grateful for the time you spend here.”
 
“Emma Shaefer, I shall accept no apologies from you, understand? I am happy to do what I can here. After all, it wasn’t so long ago I was one of your charges myself. It’s only fair I do my part to spread the good fortune around. I gather you’ve not yet managed to convince the high and mighty Miss White to grace us with her illustrious presence, so that she might see the fruit of all her generous donations?”
 
“Kirra, please don’t speak of her that way! She is very generous. I could never keep this place going without her funds,” Emma sighed a little. “But no, I sent her another letter of thanks in response to her last check, and reiterated my standing invitation, but her reply still only said her schedule was too full. Nevertheless, I live in hope. It would be wonderful to finally meet her. When I think of the state this place was in before that first letter arrived…” I set the basket down and pulled out the first set of sheets from the pile of clean laundry. Handing Emma one end, we began to fold them.
 
“Yes, I remember. When you first took me in, the roof would leak right by my bed whenever it rained. And we had to be careful on the stairs, too, since the banister had come off. Still, you were lucky back then to find a building intact at all in the old city, when they were still clearing away all the debris on the edges of Arcadia.”
 
“You never even saw the worst of it. Johann, God rest his soul, and I had been fixing it up for two years already when they brought you to me. When we first arrived, the windows had all been blown out and half the plumbing didn’t even work. But you’re right, we were lucky to find it in even as good a state as it was, back then. It sometimes still catches me off guard, to look out the windows and see all those new buildings they’ve put up since. It never ceases to amaze me how fast Arcadia has grown out of nothing!”
 
Our idle chatter continued for another fifteen minutes. Then Emma, who had been keeping one eye on the clock on the wall, went back into the lower hallway and stood by the bottom of the stairs. “Fifteen minutes, everyone! Anybody not in clean clothes, get changed now!” There was the sound of muffled thumpings from various places in the house, and the screen door that let into the modest back yard squealed as it was yanked hurriedly open, then creaked several times as multiple bodies dashed through it, until finally squealing one more time as it swung shut and banged on the door jam. Emma walked back into the laundry room with me, smiling. “Ah, youth!” We each lifted a full basket of folded laundry and carried them out of the room.
 
Ten minutes later, the children were all piling down the stairs and lining up against the walls of the main hallway. Most of them looked perfectly normal, but a few, here and there, had unusual features that made them stand out—strangely colored eyes or hair, odd skin tones, and one or two that had even more extreme attributes. In all, Emma now cared for nearly a hundred children, ranging in age from 3 to 15. And unlike nearly every other orphanage in the rapidly growing city of Arcadia, she was one of the very few that accepted paranormal orphans as readily as ordinary ones. Emma would always say, when asked about it, “they’re all children. And the Havock can hardly be blamed on them, now can it? Every child deserves a chance at a good home.” It was that relentless egalitarianism that had first convinced me to remain in this place for more than a meal or two when they’d brought me here 8 years ago. But it was Emma’s kindness that had gotten me to stay until I turned 17, and could more easily create a life for myself on my own. And, of course, why I kept coming back now, 2 years later.
 
Emma came down the stairs last, herding the handful of stragglers, mostly the youngest, ahead of her. She ushered them into line with the rest and glanced up and down the lines on either side of the hall. “Kurt! How on Earth did you get smudges on your face in just half an hour! I swear, boy, you’ll be the death of me!” She hurried over to the boy, moistening a corner of her apron in her mouth before scrubbing at a streak of what looked like green paint on his cheek. Kurt endured this patiently, making no reply, though his eyes met mine and he smirked just a little bit. Kurt didn’t talk much, I knew. At least, not like a normal boy. Kurt’s voice was his special gift, but it was also his curse. “There. Now,please try to keep yourself clean while you stand there, won’t you? Hopefully that isn’t too much to ask?”
 
It was at that moment that the front door swung open and a couple, obviously well-to-do, stepped across the threshold. The man doffed an elegant gray top hat with a very slight bow to Emma, “Good morning. Miss Shaefer, I presume? We spoke the other day on the telephone. We’re not late, I hope?”
 
Emma stepped to the couple and held out a hand with a smile, shaking each of theirs politely. “Certainly not, Mr. Watkins. You’re right on time, actually. We all just finished getting ready to offer you a proper greeting.”
 
As Mr. Watkins stepped the rest of the way into the hall, and shut the door behind them, closing out the bright morning light, I inhaled sharply. Scheiße! How ridiculously inconvenient! It would be[/I] that Mr. and Mrs. Watkins. They might not recognize me as Miss Claire White dressed like this, but I don’t dare risk it. Fortunately, I was at the back of the hall, beyond all the children, and the stairwell cast a long shadow across me. Without delay, lest they have a chance to notice my presence, I melted into my shadow form and slid into the darkest corner before jumping from there to the shadow cast by the big elm in the back yard.
 
I glanced around carefully, still in my shadow shape, and hidden by the larger darkness cast by the tree. No one was about. Fortunately, the Shaefer Home for Orphan Children now had a fenced-in rear yard. I resumed my normal form, being careful to do so out of sight of the house, and ducked out of the gate to reach the street. I’d have to come up with a convincing explanation for Emma later, but there was no help for it; I couldn’t stay. Ah well, I thought resignedly, I’d have had to leave soon enough anyway. I’ve got to leave for the Porsche job tonight, after all, and I want to look over the floor plans and guard rotations a bit more.