Page 22 of At Midnight Comes the Cry
Clare was actually thinking it sounded like indoctrination camp. The Smith children might be free-ranging, but she doubted there was much free thinking going on.
“The trick is to get into a homeschooling group. You can trade off with other moms, the kids can do club sports together—it’s the perfect solution.”
“Babe, Russ and I are going downrange to shoot.” In the bright December sunlight, Rick looked nothing like the man who had been trading blows with Ron Tucker two weeks ago. Even the two rifles he carried looked harmless.
“Okay, hon. I’ll blow the whistle when the lunch is ready.”
Clare caught Russ’s eye. He smiled easily. “We’ll have an appetite by then, I guess.”
Okay, then. She suspected he was going to find out a lot more than how good a shot Rick Smith was. Russ had been the most skilled interrogator the MKPD had, and he got there by being every suspect’s friend.
Meghan stood up and waved an arm over her head. “Marissa! Dalton!” The kids came trotting over. “Dad’s shooting downrange, so you need to play on the far side of the yard.”
“Can we go inside and play Pokémon?” Dalton asked.
“Have you two had any screen time today?”
“No, ma’am.”
“Okay, then. But keep an ear out for when I call for lunch.”
Both children chorused, “Thanks, Mom!” and pelted toward the house.
“Wow.” Clare shifted to watch them go. The little girl carefully shut the door behind them. “My grandmother Fergusson would have been impressed with their manners, and she was a Southern lady of the old school.”
“It’s that balance.” Meghan poured more cider into her mug and topped off Clare’s drink before screwing the top on the thermos. “Rick and I are their authority figures, and they know we’re in charge. Sothen they can trust us when we say, ‘You can handle this.’ A lot of parents are either afraid to lay down the law because, I don’t know, they don’t want their kids to get mad, or they’re like my sister, and they smother them.”
That made… complete sense to Clare. So long as you didn’t have to become a racist to do it. “So how does this fit in with your, uh, political philosophy?”
Meghan laughed. “I’m not political. I leave that stuff to Rick and his buddies, some of who’ll go on until you think your ears are gonna bleed.” She laughed again. “I think about it this way. How do you make free people unfree? First, you raise them up so they can’t trust themselves. They can only follow rules and orders.” She gestured toward Ethan, who had reached the edge of the wall and was teetering between returning toward them or crossing the flagstones to the other wall.
“Second, you take away their guns. Lots of attacks on the Second Amendment. Third, you make them believe they’re inferior. That’s what’s happening now. White people should feel guilty. White people are responsible for everything bad that ever happened to anyone else. White people should step aside and give their places in college or their jobs to someone who deserves it more.”
“I don’t think anyone’s supposed to feel guilty. Just that we need to recognize it was, in fact, white people who took land away from the Native Americans, and who enslaved Africans, and who enacted laws that kept all those groups poor and marginalized and without access to justice.”
Ethan had decided to take a leap of faith and head to the far wall. He tottered, unsupported, in the air, trying to coordinate the unfamiliar dance of feet and arms and balance and gravity.
“I get that, I do. But slavery’s been over for, like, a hundred and fifty years. There aren’t any laws keeping Blacks down, or Indians, or whoever. I’ve got nothing but respect for anyone who stands on their own two feet and makes something of themselves, like my parents did, and like Rick and I are doing. But don’t sit on your ass and cry about oppression and try to shame me for having a decent life.”
Clare took another sip from her mug. “So who do you think is trying to make you feel bad?”
“Big media. These super left-wing policy people in government and in colleges, who get spotlighted in the media. Ultimately, it comes down to money. Who gets it, who gets to keep it. Which means the Zionists.”
Mercifully, Ethan lost his battle with gravity at that point and thunked onto the paving stones. He screamed in outrage, jolting Clare from her stupefaction. “Hey, little man.” She picked him up for a kiss and cuddle. “You’re okay.” She unhooked an overall strap and stuck a finger in to test his diaper. “Oh, uh, Meghan?”
“He needs a change? Let me show you where the bathroom is.”
Clare took her sweet time cleaning Ethan up and swapping out his diaper. When she was done, she paused while washing her hands and looked at herself in the mirror.
What had she been thinking? How was she supposed to get through to this nice, friendly mom who thoughtThe Protocols of the Elders of Zionwas factual? It sure as hell wasn’t going to happen over a single lunch. She was going to have to commit to actually befriending Meghan and seeing if she could gradually wean her off the racist and anti-Semitic poison she’d been drinking, or she could thank her for a pleasant afternoon and never see her again. And at this moment, she had to be honest, that last option was looking pretty good.
Meghan was closing the oven door when Clare and Ethan emerged from the bathroom. “It smells great. Can I help with anything?”
“I’m going to keep the drumsticks and fries warm for a bit to give the guys some more time.” She turned her head at the sound of crunching gravel. “Is that someone coming down the drive?” She went to the window. “Oh, crap.”
“Is there a problem?”
Meghan sighed. “No, not really. Remember I said some of Rick’s friends would make your ears bleed? Well, Calvin is one of them. And he’s probably brought his wife along, and she’s a total… Seriously, I’ve got wet sponges in my sink that have more personality.”
