whatever one called it, it drew people in—men, especially.
“C’mon,” she said. “Let’s go get your suitcase. You must be exhausted. I’ve got a driver ready to take us home.”
The two locked arms and walked through the stately brick depot toward a waiting jalopy spewing mildly noxious fumes. Lena already had slid across the seat when Sarah heard her name being called. She turned around to find Mr. Jarvis running toward her, sweaty . . . again. “You left this,” he wheezed.
Her book. She shook her head. “My mind was clearly somewhere else. Thank you so much, Mr. Jarvis.”
“Paul.”
“Paul. Paul,” Sarah said, yanking Lena playfully out of the car, “this is my cousin, Lena Greenberg. Professor Greenberg.”
Lena extended her small hand. “Hello, Paul. You’ll have to forgive my cousin. She knows full well that as a mere woman I can’t actually claim that title, but it’s the thought that counts.”
Blood rushed to his cheeks as he stared at her awkwardly. “Yes, I’ve heard a bit about your work on the trip here,” he said. “It’s nice to meet you.” Sarah eased the tension by summarizing, as best she could, his ideas about Mrs. Stowe. But when Lena simply responded with a “hmm,” and suggested, rather abruptly, that they discuss the work at some future date, Sarah was stunned. It wasn’t like her to be so curt, let alone turn down an opportunity for debate.
Paul didn’t seem to notice, however. He ripped out a piece of paper from his notebook, scribbled his telephone number and handed it to her. “I’ll look forward immensely to talking with you. Safe trip,” he called out, and dashed away.
As they drove off, Sarah grabbed her cousin’s hand and asked if she was feeling well.
“Absolutely. I just wanted you all to myself.”
“Well, that didn’t stop you from taking Mr. Jarvis’ number. He’s a little young for you, isn’t he?” Sarah joked.
She smiled mischievously. “That depends. I can think of a few things for which he might be just right.”
And then they both laughed, laughed to the point of tears. Perhaps Lena was fine, after all. She certainly seemed okay now. And besides, Sarah was already having more fun than she’d had in months.
•••
By the time they reached the small town of Edenville, perspiration was clinging uncomfortably to her dress. Sarah fanned herself with her book, trying to remember the benefit to her pores. Their driver, an ambitious business student who got paid by the hour, suggested they take a brief ride through the school before heading to Lena’s rooms. To sweeten the deal, he offered to roll back the car’s flimsy top. Though heavy now, the air was fragrant with the sweet smell of honeysuckle and blew sufficiently to unstick Sarah’s dress from the small of her back. Dusk, falling in varying shades of blue and orange, found the campus empty, save the fireflies, their bright tails flickering like miniature beacons in a darkening sky.
“The school was started by a group of Presbyterian ministers,” Lena said, assuming the impromptu role of tour guide as they passed through the entrance. Engraved on a gold plaque next to the magisterial gate was the college’s founding date: 1819. “One of the first fifty small colleges in the country.”
Sarah counted ten four-story, red brick structures with arched, Gothic windows and white plantation-like columns bearing names of local heroes, former presidents and generous patrons. They drove past Preston, Simmons, and Jackson Halls. Thickly foliaged oak trees peppered the trim lawns on which each building stood equidistant, collectively framed by woods so dense that, at least from here, they were indistinguishable from the encroaching night. Forming a star-shape pattern, each hall led to the chapel, a high-domed, wooden edifice with colorful stained glass depicting the life of Christ. Like planets circling the sun, the chapel, with its towering oversized steeple was the fixed point around which mathematics, English, music and all the other disciplines turned.
“You can’t imagine how many here still view the church as the life-giving force,” Lena said. “The anchor. The final word. Without its watchful authority, they think we’ll all go spinning out of control.”
“I don’t know how you do it, Lena,” Sarah said. It’s hard enough being a Jew. Even at court, where the separation of church and state is enforced, I have to watch my back.”
“You know me. I just let them believe what they want and keep going my own way. Besides, my department is different. The zealots don’t worry about us much. We only teach fiction, after all. It’s science they keep their eye on.”
As they exited the campus Sarah yawned deeply, covering her mouth in a failed attempt to hide the exhaustion that had suddenly overtaken her. On their way to Lena’s, they passed through Main Street, an eight-block paved road with quaint stores on either side selling the staples of modern life. City Drug, Duke Dry Cleaning, Coleman Tires, Luke’s Sandwiches, the names blurred together until Lena gave her ribs a little nudge. She shook herself just in time to see a soft, blue light rhythmically flashing: Cohen’s. Cohen’s. Cohen’s.
“Don’t want you to miss the Jew store, my dear,” Lena said.
Sarah watched the light as it flickered and faded from view. She’d heard the moniker was common in the South, a reference to Jewish-run shops selling dry goods inexpensively to farmers, Negroes and anyone else short of cash. Still, it was disturbing.
“It’s not as bad as it sounds, though,” Lena said, no doubt seeing Sarah suddenly stiffen. Most people down here don’t know enough about the Jews to know the term is offensive. Their ignorance isn’t malicious.”
“Oh come on, Lena. You’re smarter than that. Inexpensive is a euphemism for cheap, and cheap for Jew.”
“Well, of course, I know that’s true in many places. But it’s more complicated in these parts. The Cohens are well-liked, and their store does a good business. The euphemism isn’t fully realized.”
“Maybe so,” Sarah said. “But I wonder if they would mind if we called, oh, I don’t know, those little religious shops popping up everywhere the ‘Goy’ stores.”
Lena laughed. “You’re right, of course. But we’re not going to solve that problem today. I know what you’ve been through, and you’ve cause to be wary. We all do. But remember what you told me. ‘Lena, I want nothing more than to relax my body and rest my mind.’”
Sarah squeezed Lena’s hand and smiled. “All right, all right. I suppose I’m overreacting. You certainly seem to be surviving. Thriving, even.”
Lena turned away for a moment and was silent. “Yes,” she replied, “I’m great.” But the tone in her voice said something else. Sarah touched her shoulder and Lena turned back, smiling, perhaps just a little too much. Had the last year made Sarah so nervous that now she was misjudging her own cousin? She needed to watch herself, reading into things this way. “So, Lena, where is your place, anyway?”
On cue, the driver turned down a tree-lined street and stopped in front of a white clapboard house with a wide, inviting porch. Lena pointed to an upstairs window. “Right there.”
•••
Lena occupied two spacious rooms in a Colonial-style house for faculty
