Page 36 of The Book of Summer

“We were tricked into coming to people’s rescue and lost fifty thousand men in the process! Not to mention we don’t have the power to defeat the Axis right now. A suicide mission is what it is.”

“You sound like Chuck Lindbergh sure enough. That’s not a compliment, by the way.”

“What do you have against Lindbergh?”

“He’s practically a German. Folks call him the ‘number one Nazi fellow traveler.’ And he supports racial purity! That’s eugenics, Ruby. In case I need to spell it out.”

“I don’t agree with him on that front. But he’s a patriot! And he’s been through so much.”

“He’s handsome and had a baby kidnapped. Sorry, Red, that doesn’t make him right. And don’t get me started on that wife of his.”

“Anne is delightful,” Ruby said.

She’d met her once, back at school. Anne Morrow was a Smithie, too, and had made an appearance on campus, enchanting every last one of them.

“Mrs. Lindbergh is so lovely and strong despite the tragedy,” Ruby said. “Why, if I were in her shoes, I’d never step out of my house.”

“Doesn’t give her the right to act like a cretin. For the love of God, Red, that book of hers is a Nazi handbook if ever there was one. The Lindberghs. Christ. I’d welcome their insight even less than I’d welcome typhoid fever.” Topper eyed the ceiling as if in contemplation. “Smallpox? Polio? A knife to the gut? All of the above?”

“I get it. You don’t care for them. I just can’t figure how muddling around Europe’s problems does anything for us.”

“You want it to do something for us?” Topper wrenched up his mug. “To begin, as it relates to Hitler, it’s first stop Europe, next stop the world.”

“But he’s said he has no designs on this part of the globe. I read it in theTimes.Your favorite rag.”

“Well, if there’s ever a man to take at his word,” Topper said with a snort, “it’s Hitler. Just ask the Austrians. And even if he were being uncharacteristically honest, you can’t… It’s not morally sound to be an isolationist anymore. I’m a little embarrassed you still have such ideas.”

“Embarrassed? Ouch. And since when do you care about morals?”

Topper flinched as if stung, though he’d jabbed at her first.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…” Ruby started.

He shook his head.

“No. I know. It’s fine.” He sighed. “The thing is, Ruby, I’m a lover not a fighter.”

“Spare me!”

“I don’t like the thought of getting involved in some far-flung war any more than you do. But we can’t keep burying our heads in the sand. Grievous atrocities are being committed. Last week, five thousand Jews were rounded up in Paris and shipped off to prison camps, to endure God knows what abuse. These places have death quotas, Ruby. Which they’re besting several times over.”

Ruby’s stomach lurched. She clamped her eyes shut. The boy was far too fixated on every iniquity they printed inThe New York Times.

“Topper, please…”

“You can’t turn away, Ruby. That man—Hitler—he’s pure evil. He must be stopped.”

Ruby opened her eyes and nodded absently.

She didn’t wholly agree with her brother, or with Sam, but Ruby understood Topper’s heart. For a second she felt a ping, the urge to do more than complain or disagree. For all his claims that the woman was a fascist monster, Ruby quite concurred with Mrs. Lindbergh, who said that her heart wanted to help but her mind questioned the sanity of it.

“I suppose I can do something,” Ruby said. “With the Bundles for Britain program. The Grey Ladies are in the thick of it. According to Mother, they’ve requested more hands.”

Yes, Ruby decided. She could take to knitting socks and hats to be sent overseas. Though she wasn’t in favor of the United States joining the fight, that didn’t mean she couldn’t support Britain and her allies. There was more than one way to think about this war.

“Bundles for Britain?” Topper said with an arched brow. “You’re really going to join up?”

“Why not? You’ve said it yourself. I have an idealistic view of the world. My tinseled cocoon and whatnot. Time to get serious. I’m having too much fun.”