Amerikan Eagle

“You were out late last night with that dead man, Sam. You shouldn’t have to go out again tonight. The marshal should give you a break. Especially since you got in a fight. Your cheek is really bruising up.”

“It wasn’t much of a fight, and tonight’s a Party meeting,” he told her. “You know how it is.”

She spooned up some of the stew. The radio was playing a repeat sermon of the famed radio priest Father Charles Coughlin, out of Chicago. In his musical accent, Coughlin said, “The system of international finance which has crucified the world to the cross of depression was evolved by Jews for holding the peoples of the world under control…”

Sam frowned. He despised the priest. “Why are you listening to him? I thought you liked the music from that Boston station.”

“It went off the air yesterday. The FCC yanked its license.”

The priest went on. “…from European entanglements, from Nazism, communism, and their future wars, America must stand aloof. Keep America safe for Americans and the Stars and Stripes the defender of God.”

“I’m finished. May I be excused?” Toby asked breathlessly.

Sam looked to Sarah, and she said, “Yes, you may.”

“Thanks!” He pushed his chair back with a screech and ran for his room, and Sarah called out, “And no radio until your homework gets done, got it, buster?”

“Yep!”

With Toby gone, Sarah picked up her spoon. “Sam, are you sure you can’t stay home tonight?”

“Honey, I’ve missed two Party meetings in a row. I can’t afford to miss a third. I start missing meetings, then somebody will start looking in to me. And if that happens, maybe they’ll find out about your little charity work, right?”

“Sam, I know we called it charity work, but it was much more than that,” she said sharply. “It is—was very important to me. It was once important to you, too. You always supported me before. I don’t like that you’ve changed your mind.”

“I haven’t changed my mind. Other things have changed. And if I miss one more meeting, I can get put on a list. And I’m still on probation. You know where that toy sub came from, right, the one for Toby? An unemployed firefighter selling wooden toys on the street because someone ratted him out for reading the wrong newspapers. If there are cutbacks next budget season, I could lose my job. Or end up chopping down trees with my brother if they find out what’s been going on in our basement.”

“You won’t be on any list like that. You know that. Please knock it off. You’re just trying to scare me.”

“Don’t be so sure. And something else you should know. I saw the marshal and your dad separately this morning, and they want the same thing: me to be more active in the Party, so I can be a rat and tell them what the other’s up to. Isn’t that great? The marshal and your dad have such a high opinion of me that they both want me to be a rat.”

Sarah wiped her hands on a napkin. “Maybe you should be more active in the Party. I mean, with the Underground Railroad station closed, my friends and I, well, if you could tell us things ahead of time—”

“Dammit, woman, it’s bad enough my boss and your dad want me to be a rat, you want me to do the same for you and your half-baked revolutionaries and concerned schoolteachers?”

Sarah’s eyes flashed at him. “Don’t insult us by calling us that. It’s people like my friends who can make a difference. And I wish you would stop being so mean about my dad. I don’t like it.”

“I’m sorry you don’t like it, but you know he can be a jerk.”

“Jerk or not, he’s just trying to help his son-in-law, me, and our son. What’s wrong with that? You know how he helped us with the furniture, and he wanted to help with the down payment for our house. I still don’t know why you didn’t let him.”

“Because I don’t want to be under his goddamn thumb, that’s why!”

She glared at him, and noisily clattered the dishes together. “But it’s all right to sleep in a bed that he provided us at cost, isn’t it, Inspector Miller?”

“Look, Sarah—”

His wife made a point of looking up at the kitchen clock. “I don’t want to talk about it any more. You’re going to be late to your precious Party meeting.”

* * *