Meg Lewis had so many different personas, she was starting to lose track of what she really was-American spy, wife to a Nazi, courier, half-Jewish...She didn't want to break John Egan's heart and she certainly didn't intend to pioneer the world of s...
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June 1937
The once quiet street in Wisconsin was rather busy on the sweltering morning of June 16th. The Lewis Family, by all accounts, was a perfectly normal and average American family who always seemed as happy as they could be. James Lewis had grown up in Wisconsin and had met his wife—Mary—at a local college. She was from Germany and had solely fled the country shortly before the Great War had broken out.
It had been a whirlwind romance and her parents hadn't approved. She was Jewish, after all—and marrying a Christian American boy from Wisconsin hadn't been in their plans for her. But Mary had fallen totally and desperately in love, and by then, it was too late to stop her. James Lewis was a man of the military, after all—and the romance of it all was just very devastating.
Her first child was born in 1913—a boy named Alexander. They had a daughter in 1918 by the name of Marguerite, Meg for short. And for the next two decades, the family lived in relative peace and happiness.
All of this was cut dramatically short in the summer of 1937 when Mary Lewis deemed that she was tired of the American spirit and patriotism found there. She had always aligned herself more with the fascist and communist governments of the greater European continent. And so it came to a boiling point when the family was evenly split down the middle.
For tender-hearted 19-year-old Meg Lewis, her entire world was shoved on its side the minute that her mother asked her to come away with her to Europe. And for a moment, Meg thought of the only person she had ever loved and the thought of leaving John Egan was almost too much for her to bear—
But then her mother, the one person that she would have done anything for in the entire world, she was looking at her and there was begging in her eyes. And Meg was quietly told the truth of the matter—that if she did not go, then Alex would be the one to go. And because Meg loved her brother, because she did not want to abandon her mother or her country—Meg broke John Egan's heart without a second thought.
It was the early hours of morning, with Meg standing there and clutching at her own arm in uneasiness. Mary had insisted on getting some movers to come and help them with their things—they were packing light and getting in a car, going to the airport, and never looking back.
"You don't have to go, you know." Meg turned her head, finding her older brother standing there with a scowl on his face and arms crossed as he leaned against the front door. "Just because she is, I mean. You don't believe in that shit."
Meg gave an equal scowl. "And how would you know what I believe?"
The sound that tore out of Alex's throat was one of disbelief. "Because I know you."
"No, you don't. Mama believes that what they're doing over there is right. And I agree with her."
Alex Lewis studied his younger sister—the curl in her lip, the way that her fingers fiddled around the wedding ring their mother had abandoned, the way that her shoulders had sunk in. And he wanted to call her out on it. Wanted to scream and shake her from head to toe and demand to know why she was giving up everything she had ever wanted. And for what? For some deluded quest of glory in Europe? For some deluded idea of superiority?
