Amerikan Eagle

“Because those two Long’s Legionnaires, they saw an open door, and they knew it led into the cellar. They know, Sarah, they already know. At some point, the hammer’s going to fall hard.”

He kept silent for a bit, and then she pressed against him, perhaps frightened more by his silence than the threat the two uniformed men at their door presented. He kissed her cheek, her lips, and she said, “Sam… thanks for keeping them out, for standing up for us.”

“My wife… my little revolutionary… we’re in this together, okay? No matter what. You and me and Toby. The three of us. Always.”

“Yes, Sam. Thank you. The three of us. Always.”

He fell asleep with her sweet scent all about him.

PART THREE

Eyes Only

Report from Party Field Officer H. LeClerc:

On the evening of 04 May ’43, I beg to report that while conducting loyalty check and survey operations on Grayson Street in Portsmouth, New Hampshire, me and fellow Party Field Officer T. Carruthers encountered Party member Sam Miller. Miller refused to answer our questions. Miller refused to allow us entry into his home. Based on our earlier instructions, we were therefore unable to gain entry into his home at this time and perform further loyalty check investigations of the residence.

In light of Miller’s response and lack of cooperation, I recommend the future detention of Miller and family to determine the status of Miller and his home.

Respectfully submitted,

H. LeClerc

Party Field Officer

Badge #4166

CHAPTER TWENTY

Sam got up early, his sleep restless and churning with bad dreams he couldn’t recall. He threw on some clothes without waking Sarah, then went downstairs. The cellar was empty. He took a breath, tore down the sheet, and folded up the cot, tossing the blanket to the floor. With cot and sheet in hand, he climbed a short set of stairs to the cellar bulkhead, which he shouldered open. Outside, it was cold and raw, the thin lawn glittering with frost. It was high tide. He moved to the hedge separating his yard from the Piscataqua River and, in one heave, tossed the cot and the sheet into the river.

He stood there, chest heaving, and then he went back into the house.

* * *

Maybe it was the exhilaration of having made it through the night without a Black Maria rolling up in the driveway, but breakfast that morning was full of smiles and laughter. Even Toby got into the act, finding a straw and blowing bubbles in his orange juice, announcing to his parents that these were “Florida farts” because orange juice came from Florida. Despite Sam’s bad dreams, the sight of Sarah smiling and making their morning meal cheered him. A couple of times he patted her bottom as he squeezed past her in the kitchen, and she laughingly retaliated by squeezing him back, though in a much more sensitive area that made him yelp and made her grin.

After the dishes were cleared and Toby had gone to his room, Sam spotted a paper bag by the stove. He looked in and saw a couple of old shirts and a pair of pants that had been torn but were now repaired by needle and thread.

He looked up at Sarah. “Another clothing run?”

She wiped her hands on a washcloth. “Yes, during our lunch break. A few of us from the school department are going over to the hobo camp.”

He closed up the bag. “Good. Just don’t go there alone. And I’m glad you’re doing it in the middle of the day.”

Sarah put the cloth down. “And that’s it, Sam. Just this… what we can do.”

He went over to her, kissed her, and held her tight. “Before day’s end, some folks who don’t have anything to wear will be in better shape, thanks to you. Just be careful, all right?”

She tugged at his ear. “I heard you twice the first time, Inspector. Now get going and stop cheating the taxpayers.”

* * *

Sam drove out alone to work, passing a horse-drawn wagon from one of the local dairies, detouring his way to Pierce Island, going over the wooden bridge. He found the dirt parking lot empty. He stepped out, maneuvered around the broken glass from some shattered beer bottles, saw a flaccid piece of rubber draped over a rock.

Sam looked around. “Tony! You out there?”

No reply. Just the cries of a few seagulls and the whistle of a piece of equipment out in the shipyard.