Amerikan Eagle

Before going to bed, Sam checked in on Toby. His boy had his crystal radio set on low; thankfully, it was just playing soft dance music from someplace where people had enough money and time to go dancing. He reached down to unplug it, and Toby stirred and said, “Dad?”

He sat down on the edge of the bed. “Yeah, sport. What is it?”

“Mmm, Mommy said we’re gonna go on a trip tomorrow… up to Grandpa’s camp.”

He touched Toby’s hair. “That’s right. Just a few days. You and Mom.”

“And I won’t get in trouble at school?”

“No, no trouble at all.”

“Good. I’ve been in trouble enough.”

His boy’s breathing eased, and Sam stood up to leave. Toby stirred and said, “I told ’em, you know. That my dad wasn’t a rat. I had to tell ’em you’re not a rat. So I did okay. I didn’t fight, Dad, but I didn’t let him get away with it, either…”

Sam went out, closing the door softly behind him.

* * *

He slid into bed next to Sarah, who rolled over and nuzzled up against him and said, “You win.”

“Thanks.”

“Don’t thank me yet. Dad’s coming to pick me and Toby up tomorrow.”

“He’ll get over it,” he said, kissing her and feeling the silkiness of lace on her body. She kissed him back and then pressed her lips against his ear and whispered with urgency, “Sam… forgive me, will you?”

“For what?” he whispered back. Both of them kept their voices low from habit, being so close to their dozing son.

“For who I am. A disappointment… a shrew… and… oh, just forgive me.”

He kissed her again, deeper, as she moaned and moved underneath him. “Forgiven, Sarah, always forgiven. Though I don’t agree with what you just said.”

“Shhh,” Sarah replied, lowering her hand on his belly, “let’s stop talking for a while. Here’s the rain check I promised you from a long time ago, big guy.”

In the darkness he sighed at the touch of his cheerleader. “Not that big.”

Her warm hand lowered some more. “Just you wait.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

At breakfast that morning, his heart nearly broke at the sight of the two suitcases—one large, the other small—at the door, huddled there like frightened children. It was wrong, it was awful, but he knew it was the right thing to do.

Sarah had made a good breakfast for them all, pancakes and bacon. Toby kept on asking if the water was warm enough up at Grandpa’s camp, could he do some swimming when he got there if Mom was there to watch him?

Sam said, “If your mother says so, then it’s fine.”

Now the dishes had been gathered and he stood behind Sarah, hands on her hips, and kissed the curve of her neck, and said, “Leave them. I’ll do them later.”

“Please. It gives me something to do. Something to keep me busy. All right?” Her voice quivered.

Sam ran his hands up and down her slim hips, recalled with delight the passion that these same hips had brought him last night. He brought his lips to her ear and said, “What did you mean last night, asking for forgiveness? Where did that come from?”

In an instant, her body tensed, as if she had heard something disquieting. She shook off his hands with a sharp movement. “Can we not talk about this now, please? Dad will be here any moment, and I need to get the dishes done.”

Message received. Once again he was struck by the contradiction that was his wife: the passionate lover of last night and the irritated housewife this morning. Sam went out to the living room to get his revolver, coat, and hat and, through the front window, saw his father-in-law, Lawrence Young, striding up the walkway as if he owned the damn place, which he once wished to do. Back during those long days and nights as a newlywed, when Sam had struggled to come up with the down payment, Larry had hinted at how his new son-in-law could get the desperately needed money: Sam’s ass working weekends at the furniture store.

Larry had never gotten what he wanted, Sam thought. But Sam had gotten something else. Bloody hands and a memory that would never leave him.

Larry came in, dressed in a fine dark gray overcoat, looking pleased with himself. “Morning, Sam.”

“Hello, Larry.”

“I understand my daughter and grandson need some protection.”

“In a manner of speaking,” he replied.

“I thought that was your job.”

Sam felt his shoulders tense. “It is. Which is why I’m getting them out of town during the summit.”

“Maybe you’re getting them out of town, but I’m putting them up, driving up there and back, taking the better part of my workday. I hope you appreciate that.”

From the kitchen, Sarah came out, smiling. “Dad, thanks for helping us out.”

Toby was there, saying, “Grandpa!,” his face radiant.

Sam picked up the two suitcases. “Tell you what, Toby. You two get your coats, and I’ll put your suitcases out in Grandpa’s car. Okay?”

Before anybody said anything, he was outside in the blessedly cool and free air, carrying both suitcases.

* * *

Sarah said, “I’ll try to call you the moment we’re settled in if the damn phone’s working.”

He kissed her and said, “You sure you’ve got everything packed?”