LITMIR.BIZ

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in front yards, rich, meaty aromas mingling in the air, and red, white and blue streamers hanging from several trees along the way all did their part to excite the two.

      “Mornin’, ladies.” An aging man, barely able to stand straight over his wooden cane, greeted them as they passed. “Happy Fourth,” he said, raising one shaking hand. “Happy Fourth!” they both echoed, waving back. In the front yard of the next house, a robust young woman looked up from her gardening and smiled. “Goin’ to the parade, are you’uns?”

      “Yes we are,” they again answered in unison. Feeling as energetic as two young schoolgirls, though they knew better, they almost began to skip down the street. In part they sensed that they had better enjoy themselves while they could. And in part they knew that unlike Christmas, this was a celebration in which they could partake without any guilt. And so they would.

      When they finally spotted the center of town, they could see a conglomeration of chairs and benches lined up along the parade’s path. Many were already occupied, but Lena found two vacancies right in front of Cohen’s. Sarah chose not to speculate about why they were empty. A chair was a chair, and she hurried with Lena to make sure hers didn’t get away. Mr. Cohen was there, setting up a makeshift stand next to a sign that read “Hats and Fans.” He beamed when he saw them, stretching out his arms as if they were long lost relatives. “Hello! Hello! So good to see you.”

      “Good to see you, too, sir. These chairs aren’t taken, are they?” Lena asked.

      “No, of course not! Right here, my dahlings,” he said, pulling them out with a gentlemanly flourish. “I saved them for you.”

      “You did?” Sarah said.

      “No, but I couldn’t be happier that you two ended up here. Uh, by the way,” he said, fixing his narrowing blue gaze on Lena, “that’s terrible about the professor.” Lena silently nodded. He then gazed at both of them, rubbing his chin. “I think I’ve got the perfect remedy. I’ll be right back. Don’t move.”

      “I hope he doesn’t mean that literally,” Sarah said. “This seat is hard!”

      Lena smirked. “You’ve got enough padding.”

      “Hey, I worked my tush off to get some meat back on my bones.”

      “I know. Just kidding. You know I envy your tush.”

      Just then Charlie returned with a package wrapped in brown paper and handed it to Lena. He leaned down and whispered: “Enjoy.”

      “Thanks,” Lena said, “for whatever it is.”

      “You’re welcome. Now, I’ve got to finish setting up. I’ll see you girls later.”

      Lena examined the package, moist from something inside. “Should I open it?”

      “Why not?”

      She peeled off the masking tape and gingerly ripped open the bag. Ha! Not exactly the remedy she imagined, but a decent one nevertheless. The familiar briny aroma drifted in Sarah’s direction. Pickles. Lena picked one up and took a generous bite. “Just as it should be,” she said, crunching loudly. “Not overdone.”

      Sarah was a bit too full of toast, but she agreed that it looked perfect. “Thick, firm and juicy.” Lena gave her a sideways glance and pinched her on the leg. “I love it when you’re naughty,” she said, and they both laughed out loud, not caring who heard them.

      •••

      Edenville’s parade reminded Sarah of Toledo’s, and for a moment she wondered whether Obee was sitting in their usual spot watching it right now. Stars and Stripes flew in abundance. A high school band played a drum-heavy version of “America the Beautiful.” War veterans, precariously perched on an old fire truck, blasted a horn and waved proudly. A few Model Ts carrying some of the town’s notables sputtered down the street followed by several horse-drawn wagons advertising local businesses, while people of all ages sat or stood on the sidelines, clapping, singing and drinking lemonade . . . some no doubt sweetened with more than sugar.

      There were, however, a few discernable differences. This celebration was smaller. Toledo was a large city, and thus there was simply more of everything. But that was just a matter of scale. The Rebel flags were something else again. Not that many really. Just here and there, punctuating the crowd like some long out-of-use exclamation point. But they made Sarah uneasy, reminded her that she was a foreigner. And another thing. Though the town was nearly one-third black, not even one Negro had come out to watch the parade. The only faces that weren’t white, in fact, were the Indians’. Several Cherokee dressed in short-sleeved buckskin costumes and colorful beads had set up shop, selling their wares close to where Mr. Cohen seemed to be making a killing. One certainly wouldn’t see that in Toledo either. What, she wondered, did this holiday mean to them?

      She turned back to the parade in time to see an ice truck plastered with an oversized picture of President Coolidge drive by. Hard to believe. Coolidge’s inauguration was only a few months ago. Four long years still lay ahead. She heaved a deep sigh. Already the brute had signed that despicable bit of legislation, the National Origins Act. “America must be kept American,” he’d argued. What he meant was, restrict Eastern European immigration and exclude the Orientals altogether. And she thought Ohio’s native son, Harding, was bad. Thank God she was born here, she thought, or she’d surely be turned away, too. She glanced back at the Indians. Of course, they were born here, and look where it got them. She remembered Coolidge’s campaign slogan: “Keep Cool with Coolidge.” Cold is more like it. No wonder they put him on an ice truck. His image alone was probably keeping the blocks from melting.

      As the parade neared its end, the crowd had swelled to several hundred. Many students even had made an appearance, including Jim and Kathryn. When they spotted Lena, they ran over, their hair sopping wet.

      Lena smiled. “You two just take a shower together?”

      “Miss Greenberg! Of course not! We were swimming in the river,” Kathryn said. “It felt so wonderful, but then too many people started coming, so we decided to come over here and watch the rest of the parade.”

      “I was just kidding.”

      “Any word, Miss Greenberg?” Jim asked, somewhat out of breath.

      “No, not yet. I’ll let you know. You’re both taking summer classes, aren’t you?”

      They nodded.

      Sarah observed their smooth, unmarked bodies, their sensuality brimming over. How long it had been. Despite all the supposed free love, opportunities had rapidly dwindled in recent years. Of course, there was Mitchell, had she just given him the sign. But why start anything? She was an old maid, yes, an old maid! Love, especially sex, was for the young. She worked all her life for women’s rights, but like any good Victorian, was repelled by her own desires.

      “Good. I may need your help again,” Lena said.

      Kathryn leaned over and squeezed the excess water out of her hair. “Anytime.”

      “Okay, now run along, and have fun.”

      “You’re terrible,” Sarah said, when they were out of earshot. “Embarrassing those kids like that.”

      “I know. I’m just jealous.”

      Sarah nodded. Me too, she thought.

      •••

      The sun was more than halfway through its descent when, bringing up the rear of the parade in a shiny new Studebaker, the mayor stopped to deliver a concluding message. The loudspeaker helped with the volume but muffled his words. Sarah could discern only “freedom,” “God,” and “America.” That was probably enough. She could guess the rest.

      After he was through and the parade had come to a close, most of the town lingered and talked on the sidewalk. Without a doubt, everything had gone well. It had been a lovely day, absolutely delightful, and just what the local folks needed. As they stood there, debating who would

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