Yellow Wood by Terry Trafton

Author:Terry Trafton
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Gatekeeper Press
Published: 2019-11-19T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 14

GATHERED AROUND AN imposing stone courthouse was a concentration of mostly old brick buildings built more than 100 years ago. Many small towns in Southern Indiana were laid out on the square. But many courthouses were no longer the place of town offices. Most towns had built new town halls and left the courthouses to antique shops, restaurants, boutiques, and small businesses. Jasper had recently relocated its town business offices to a new town hall four blocks south on Main Street. Fain had been there a couple of times, once to renew his passport and the second time to pay a parking violation.

After they had walked the six blocks to Henry’s and bought ice cream cones, they sat on the courthouse lawn watching preparations for the July 4th celebration. The Square was closed to all traffic. At one end of the street huge generators on a long flatbed truck belched small puffs of smoke that rose lethargically in the dampish air. The large generators were responsible for lighting many concessions along Second Street. More puffs of blue-gray smoke came from other generators behind where they sat on a grassy hillside watching several men raise a tent. The night came alive in this tremendous flood of manufactured light.

Anxious to see as much of what was going on as possible, Emily was like a child squirming beside him. “It’s very exciting,” she said more than once.

“Tomorrow the streets will be filled with people,” Aaron replied. “There’ll be rides for the children and a flea market up-and-down many streets.”

“Aren’t you proud to live in such a country as this?” she asked.

“Extremely proud,” Aaron answered honestly.

In the distance, a stout woman gestured authoritatively into the night. It was Mrs. Allen in charge of setting up either a canopy or tent. Constantly involved with several local charities, the woman’s energy never failed her. Even at 68 she remained a tireless campaigner for social organizations like Saint Jude and the Shriners.

“Can we stay a little longer?” Emily asked.

“As long as you want,” he answered. “It’s Friday night,” he announced with a note of enthusiasm. “If you want to sit out the night here that’s fine with me.”

“Maybe just a little longer,” she replied.

After Mrs. Allen’s tent was up workers arranged several tables and chairs inside it. Mrs. Allen, though, was long gone. As the cool night settled, Aaron put his arm around her and pulled her closer to him. The stars were mysteries spread seductively across an abstract canvas. Starry constellations scattered across the sky, each watched a small town prepare for a patriotic celebration—believing as they sat close that the two of them had a life together.

“Are you cold?” he asked.

“I’m fine,” assured Emily while glancing at him long enough to say, “such a perfect summer night.”

“One of the most beautiful nights I’ve ever seen,” he replied in the vanilla light made by the generators.

Tents and canopies continued to go up fast. Even at midnight The Square was alive with people preparing for tomorrow. It was an all-night event for most workers.

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