American Empire: The Center Cannot Hold by Harry Turtledove Read Free Book Online

“I’ve been looking for you. Give me a moment of your time.”
      He didn’t even say please. Sylvia’s patience had worn thin. “Why should I?” she asked, and got ready to push past him. She reached up to fiddle with her hat. She had a hat pin with an artificial pearl at one end and a very sharp point at the other. Some men were interested in her for the sake of politics, others for other, murkier, reasons.
      But this fellow proved one of the former sort. “Why? For the sake of your country, that’s why.” He had the map of Ireland on his face; the slightest hint of a brogue lay under his flat New England vowels.
      “Look, whoever you are, I haven’t got time for anything except my children, so if you’ll excuse me—” She started forward. If he didn’t get out of the way, maybe she’d use the hat pin whether he had designs on her person or not.
      “My name is Kennedy, Mrs. Enos, Joe Kennedy,” he said. “I’m the head of the Democratic Party in your ward.”
      No hat pin, then, except in an emergency. If she got on the wrong side of a politician, he could make life hard for her, and life was hard enough already. With a sigh, she said, “Speak your piece, then, Mr. Kennedy—though I don’t know why you’re bothering with me. After all, women can’t vote in Massachusetts.”
      His answering smile was forced. The Democrats had always been less eager for women’s suffrage than either the Socialists or what was left of the Republican Party. But he quickly rallied: “Do you want us weak, too weak to take our proper place in the world? If you do, the Socialist Party’s the perfect place for you. They’re trying to throw away everything we won in the war.” That did hit home. “What do you want from me, Mr. Kennedy? Tell me quickly, and I’ll give you my answer, but I have to get home to my son and daughter.” Something glinted in his eyes. It made Sylvia half reach for the pin again. Kennedy wore a wedding ring, but Sylvia had long since seen how little that meant. Men got it where they could. George, she made herself remember, had been the same way. But all the ward leader said was, “An hour of your time at our next meeting would be very fine, to show you stand with us on the issues of the day.” He acted as if it were a small request, something where she wouldn’t need to think twice before she said yes. But she shook her head. “You must be rich, to have hours you can throw around. When I’m not working, I’m cooking or minding the children. I’m sorry, but I’ve got no time to spare.” Kennedy’s mouth tightened. He drummed the fingers of his right hand against his trouser leg. Sylvia got the feeling he wasn’t used to hearing people tell him no. The vapor that steamed from his nostrils as he exhaled added to the impression. It also made him look a little like a demon.
      But then, as suddenly as if he’d flipped the switch to an electric light, he gave Sylvia a bright smile. “If you like, my own wife will watch your children while you come. Rose would be glad to do it. She knows how important to the country winning the next election is.” That couldn’t mean anything but, My wife will watch your children if I tell her to.  Whatever it meant, it did put Sylvia in an awkward position. She said, “You know how to get what you want, don’t you?”
      “I try,” Joe Kennedy said. This time, the smile he gave her had nothing to do with the automatic politician’s version he’d used a moment before. This one was genuine: a little hard, a little predatory, and a little smug, too.
        How could anyone marry a man with a smile like that?  But that, thank heaven, wasn’t Sylvia’s worry. Kennedy stood there with that hot, fierce smile, waiting for her answer. Now he’d gone out of his way to give her what she’d said she wanted. How could she tell him no? She saw no way, though she still would have liked to.
      With a sigh of her own, she told him, “I’ll