Andrea Barrett - The Air We Breathe

Leo nodded, as Sophie wrote What is the speed of light? and turned her book toward Pearl, who didn’t know. Miles claimed that he’d heard of these ideas years ago and knew of several good books that could explain them far more clearly than Irene just had.

“Excellent,” Irene said. “If you have copies, perhaps you could lend them to those who want to read further?”

“They’re at home,” Miles said. “In my library there. And anyway—”

But he didn’t finish whatever he meant to say and Naomi, who had bent over her drawing pad, frowned at him. Earlier that week they’d had an unpleasant conversation about some committee he said he was joining because of the war. He needed a permanent driver, he said, someone he could count on every day; important work, for which he’d pay a weekly salary. When she’d told him he should check for someone at the garage, he’d made a face like a puzzled sheep. Her mother, scolding her after Miles had tattled, had said that the decision wasn’t solely hers, and that they’d discuss it further when they had more time. Now, as his voice subsided, she said to him, “If you understand it so well, why don’t you give the rest of us the benefit of your wisdom ?”

WISDOM: what is that? Like time, it’s different for all of us; certainly Miles’s wisdom wasn’t Leo’s or Naomi’s, Zalmen’s or Pietr’s or Sadie’s. Nor was it ours as a group. The dispiriting note on which Irene’s first talk closed was a reminder of how easily things could go wrong even when we were all intrigued by a subject. Miles and Naomi squabbled and then Miles left, embarrassed that we’d overheard him. Naomi, after trying to say something to Leo only to have him back away, followed Miles, while Leo, as soon as Naomi was gone, moved toward Eudora. But Eudora was talking to Irene, and the sight of the two of them laughing gently made Leo feel so left out that the ideas Irene’s talk had sparked in his head blinked out one by one.

And then a week later, Irene’s second session, which might have been so interesting, went nowhere. Miles caused that as well, circling the room rapidly while the rest of us took our seats and then, before Irene could pass out the diagrams she’d retrieved from her files, brusquely waving her toward a chair.

“I have some announcements to make,” he said.

Naomi stood near the window, arms crossed over her chest, as rigid as the statue of Hygeia outside. Her dark hair, mussed by the wind, tangled with her collar.

“I have to miss these sessions for a while,” Miles said. “Some weeks, or maybe longer. New…duties have fallen on me, which I can’t describe in detail. They have to stay secret. But I can’t stand by while we are in such danger.” Flourishing a creased page of newsprint, he continued, “I want to read this to you. You might have seen it when it was printed, a couple of weeks ago, but I never know what you pay attention to, here.”

Bea came close to saying something sharp then; so did Arkady, but we caught ourselves.

“It’s from President Wilson’s war address to Congress. I want to point out this particularly important part, where he says ‘one of the things that has served to convince us that the Prussian autocracy was not and could never be our friend is that from the very outset of the present war it has filled our unsuspecting communities and even our offices of government with spies and set criminal intrigues everywhere afoot…Indeed it is now evident that its spies were here even before the war began.’

“That’s been proven exactly true in the last few weeks. ‘From the very outset of the present war’ —the more I read and hear, the more I am convinced. There are a million German aliens living here, probably half of them spies. Since war was declared they’ve been streaming from our country into Mexico and they may be heading into Canada as well. If you’ve been paying any attention at all you will have read that the government has already alerted troops along the Mexican border to defend us against seditious acts. Troops have also been deployed in various states to guard power plants and railroad bridges and reservoirs. We have to be alert! Citizens have to play a role, and here, where we’re so close to the border and where the forest provides the perfect hiding place for criminals of all sorts, our responsibilities are doubled — we must be vigilant.

“I can’t say more. Others will fill you in, when and if that becomes appropriate. But for now I simply wanted to explain why I need to be absent for some time, and to encourage you despite that to continue with your gatherings even as you’re watching out for anything or anyone unusual.”

As if, we thought, we’d stop because of him. As if we hadn’t secretly wondered how much more pleasant our meetings would be without him.

“One more thing,” Miles said, folding his sheet of newsprint. “I’ve arranged through a friend of mine who distributes films to have some special ones sent here, which I’m hoping will arrive in time for your next movie night. I trust you’ll find them inspiring, or at least educational.”

“But we have pictures picked out already!” Lydia protested.

Miles, folding the papers into his elegant calfskin briefcase — when had he started carrying that? — shook his head, leaving Naomi to reply.

“But don’t you know?” she said to Lydia and the rest of us. “Our Mr. Fairchild is suddenly a very important man. So important he gets to order me to drive him around on his errands. Or change the pictures you see, or—”

“That’s enough,” Miles said sharply. “It’s time to go, I have a meeting in the village.”

We watched in amazement as he picked his way through the circle of chairs and across the floor, his excellent shoes going tik, tik, tik while behind his back Naomi rolled her eyes and made a face but followed him.

ON MAY 3, Miles wrote this to Dr. Petrie—

Forgive this note; I meant to speak with you alone after our session but I had to rush to another meeting, and in front of our entire group I couldn’t explain. But I want you to know the truth. And I want your help. I want you to join a group of men — leading citizens, you can be proud to belong — who’ve volunteered to aid the war effort.

My dear friend Edward, back home, has in the wake of the explosion of the Eddystone Ammunition plant bravely put aside his grief over Lawrence’s death and organized a unit of the American Protective League. Hundreds of these groups have sprung up since March, charged to look for evidence of sabotage and espionage and to combat the threats to vital industries. Agents gather information and report to the police any suspicious activities on the part of alien residents, and I gladly gave Edward my permission to enroll my plant supervisor, Mr. Maskers, as one of his lieutenants.

But of course that made me think about the grave danger we’re in because of our location. Trains arriving daily from New York, Chicago, and Albany; the Canadian border so close by; a constantly changing population in the sanatoria and the cure cottages, some far from savory and a great many foreign-born: one could hardly imagine a situation more hospitable to spies and saboteurs of all kinds. Who knows who may be hiding among us even now? When I was asked to join the unit forming in Tamarack Lake, of course I said yes.

I’ve been meeting with policemen, local politicians, bank presidents, merchants, doctors, pharmacists, hotel managers, ministers, teachers. A number were previously involved in the preparedness campaign and have considerable experience. I can’t reveal the names of our chief or the other captains; for security reasons we must strictly limit who knows what, but I can tell you that similar units have already been formed in Rochester, Syracuse, Utica, and Jamestown as well as New York. I’d like you to be one of my lieutenants.