Letters Across the Sea by Genevieve Graham (spicy books to read .txt) 📕

Lord’s Day, remember?” he teased. “They can’t come outside. I’m telling you, every Sunday they should call this city ‘Toronto the Boring.’ ”

Way before he was born, before even the Great War, the government had created the “Lord’s Day Act,” which prohibited stores and movie theatres and just about anywhere someone might want to go for entertainment from opening on Sundays. Even swing sets in playgrounds were padlocked.

“Max,” Hannah said, a note of warning in her voice, but Molly laughed.

“But isn’t it just like Shabbat for you?”

“She’s got you there,” Hannah said.

“Sort of,” he admitted. Every Friday at sunset, the Dreyfus family lit the Shabbat candles, and the next twenty-four hours were filled with blessings, food, and family. He found the tradition to be calming, the connection to God and their ancestral lessons reassuring. “But why does Eaton’s cover their windows every Saturday night? What’s that for?”

Molly raised her pale eyebrows. “Why, that’s obvious, Max. You don’t want to be tempted to window shop on a Sunday. The devil is out there, just looking for window shoppers.”

“Ah, that’s completely understandable.”

“I’m glad you see my point.” She grinned. “I’ve missed your humour.”

“I haven’t,” Hannah said, rolling her eyes.

“Well, you won’t be missing my brilliant humour this fall,” Max said, proud as could be. “I just got my acceptance from U of T. I’ll be going to medical school right here in Toronto.”

Molly stopped. “What? Really?”

Hannah nodded. “He got the letter Friday.”

With a squeal, Molly threw her arms around his neck. Her hat toppled off, landing on the ground behind her, but she didn’t seem to notice.

“Congratulations, Doctor Dreyfus,” she said, an inch from his ear. The tickle of her breath on his neck raised goose bumps along his arms. “I am so proud of you.” After she released him, she turned to Hannah. “You knew about it and didn’t tell me?”

“I made her promise,” Max said, picking up her hat and handing it to her. “I wanted to surprise you myself.”

“Everyone’s glad he’ll be home.” Hannah elbowed Max. “Mama told Mrs. Beiser and the other ladies at the synagogue yesterday. Now all they can talk about is wedding bells for their daughters. The competition is heating up, I hear.”

Max checked Molly’s reaction, but she was looking ahead, toward the streetcar stop. “You and Hannah,” she said. “You’ll both be married off soon, and I—”

“And you’ll still be turning down dates,” Hannah finished for her. “Honestly, Molly. It’s time to think about the future.”

“Not today,” Molly said in a singsong as they boarded the streetcar. “Today I’m thinking about the beach.”

An hour or so later, they got off as close as they could to the beach, and Hannah led the way toward a spot on the grass, just beyond the boardwalk. The beach was as crowded as Max had ever seen it, with umbrellas propped up side by side to shelter everyone from the sun. Even those who didn’t plan to go in the water had stripped to their swimsuits, hoping to cool down.

Everything was perfect until he heard a woman in the distance shout, “Get outta here, you filthy Jews! We’re trying to keep this place clean!”

Max bit down on his anger, not wanting to start something today, but Molly spun around, her hot Irish temper on full display. “Hey! You can’t—”

Hannah grabbed her arm. “Never mind them, Molly. Come on. Let’s just enjoy the day.”

“Never mind them?” Molly sputtered. “How do you put up with that?”

Max was surprised by the force of her fury. Molly allowed herself to be pulled along, but she kept glancing back over her shoulder at the woman, who had disappeared into a crowd of people greeting each other with a bold “Heil Hitler,” their arms extended.

“No one’s doing anything to stop them!” she cried. “What right do they have to say things like that?”

“They have no right,” Max replied evenly, “and they have every right. It’s hateful, but it’s free speech. It’s up to us how we respond.”

“But you didn’t respond at all,” she said, glaring accusingly up at him. “It isn’t as if it will go away if you ignore it. What about that sign we just passed? Didn’t you notice it?”

Of course he’d noticed it. NO DOGS OR JEWS ALLOWED was kind of hard to miss. But he was puzzled by Molly’s reaction. Hadn’t she suggested he ignore that sign in the store window? Now she was practically shaking with anger. He was about to ask what had changed, when Arnie came loping toward them.

“I heard this was where the action was today,” Arnie said, hands sunk deep in his trouser pockets, “and where all the beautiful girls were heading, so here I am. Why the glum faces?”

“We were discussing that sign back there,” Max told him.

Arnie tapped his temple, half hidden under his careless mop of hair. “Ah yes. I memorized it as I came in. Very important.”

“Does it actually mean anything?” Molly asked. “Are you really not allowed to be here?”

“It means nothing,” Max said. “There are no laws about where we can or can’t go. This isn’t Germany yet.”

“But the things those people were saying,” she insisted. “Do they have any idea how hateful they’re being? Don’t they read the papers?”

“Well, it depends on which one they’re reading,” Arnie said. He handed Max a piece of yellow paper. “For you.”

Max recognized it as the flyer for the rally the league had been organizing and tucked it into his shirt. He’d read it later. “Thanks.”

“Let’s not talk about this,” Hannah begged. “Please, Molly? I don’t want to talk about politics.”

“All right. But I still think—”

“Not another word,” Hannah said, taking her arm and dragging her ahead. “This day is about fun. Let’s find a good spot to sunbathe.”

“Well, if it isn’t Max Dreyfus and Arnie Schwartz.” Max’s old school friend David Bohmer approached from their right with his hand outstretched, though his attention was on the girls.

Max shook his hand. “David. How are you?”

“Still in the shoe business?” Arnie asked.

David was tall