Free Bjorn! on the Fourth of July (A Barbara Marr Short Story) by Karen Cantwell Page A

eight and will be over by
nine so we'll be just fine," he said as he poured.
    I threw him my practiced skeptical frown.
"I don't like the idea. It's not safe. I really think you should skip it
this year."
    "You mean, so I can stand on steaming hot
pavement under the blistering noon sun to watch a man pull a rabbit out of a
hat?"
    Blistering noon sun ? Who did he think he was, Hemingway? "Aha!" I shouted, wagging an
accusatory finger at him. "So you are doing this just to avoid
taking Amber to the magic show. I knew it, you avoider you!"
    "Mommy," Amber said, "you don't
want to see Bjorn with me?" Her sad voice could've made hardened criminals
cry.
    After I pulled the finely sharpened dagger out
of my guilty heart, I got my selfish head back on straight. Bad,
bad, Mommy. What's a little discomfort compared to the joy and wonder my
daughter would experience when she saw Bjorn! ?
    I patted her hand. "I'm sorry, sweetie. I
do. I do want to be amazed." I turned back to Howard. "If the run is
over by nine, then you'll be home in time so we can all go together. It's the
Independence Day Festival so there will be other fun things too."
    He winced. "I promised Colt we'd stick
around and help with clean-up. I don't think we'd get home in time. How about
we meet you there?"
    I couldn't argue with that. Colt was our best
friend and business partner who, in the goodness of his heart, volunteered with
the Rustic Woods Nature
Center to put on their
annual Fourth of July Save the Forests 5K. "That works," I
acquiesced. "Take your cell phone then, so we can connect. That place gets
so crowded. Amber and I will probably have to be there a half-hour early to get
a place close to the stage."
    Amber clapped her hands and bounced in her
chair. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!"
She settled for a minute, placed her own hand over mine and grew very serious.
"You won't be disappointed," she said, then jumped up from her chair
and ran from the room shouting, "Bjorn! on the
Fourth of July! Yay , yay , yay ! Prepare to be amazed!"
    I blew out a sigh and looked at Howard.
"She's awfully excited about this. I hope she's not
disappointed."
    He gulped down the last of his juice then set
the glass in the sink. "You showed her the poster."
    ***
    To plan my morning after Howard and the girls
left, I worked my thinking backward from noon. If we wanted to be in front of
the stage at 11:30, we'd need fifteen minutes of driving time and five minutes
for parking which could be tricky during the Independence Day Festival. And
we'd better add a couple minutes for walking just in case we had to park really
far away. So that meant leaving the house around 11:05. The kitchen clock read
7:50. Plenty of time. I considered the many things
that needed to be done. Laundry. Lots
of laundry. God must assume that I love laundry, because unlike money,
there's always plenty of it. Sigh. I didn't feel like doing laundry on the
Fourth of July.
    I filled a hot water bottle with crushed ice,
grabbed the remote control, laid on the couch with the cool rubber bottle on my
chest, and began channel surfing. No air conditioning on the fourth of July
called for relaxing with a good movie. The typical movies were on: Born on
the Fourth of July , Independence Day , and Yankee Doodle Dandy ,
but I decided to go off-theme and watch an oldie but goodie – Some Like it
Hot . It seemed appropriate.
    Setting the remote down on the coffee table, I
settled in, plumping up a pillow under my head and getting super comfortable. Probably a little too comfortable. Remember: I was operating
on very little sleep.
    I was shaken awake by Amber waving the cordless
phone in my face. "It's Mrs. Rubenstein. She wants to know where her
avocado dip is."
    My eyes popped open and I bolted upright.
    I'd forgotten the avocadoes. And
the onions, lime, garlic, tomatoes, jalapeno pepper, and cilantro. Actually, what I'd forgotten was the guacamole that I had promised my dear
friend, Peggy Rubenstein, over a week ago.