"Yes." "I'll be damned. I met him the other day." Patrick, she thought. Martin reminded her of Patrick; that's who it was. More people arrived. A soprano sax joined the piano. A man with gray hair set up a drum kit. Joe Burke stood near the piano with a blonde--leggy, like me, Willow thought, but better looking. They came over and sat down. Joe introduced her, his wife, Sally. He reached into a paper bag and handed everyone a sparkler. "It's the 4th," he said. They lit the sparklers and sat, more or less in a circle, waving them and drinking beer. "My country 'tis of thee," Amber said. "Old Glory," Martin added. "Patriots!" A familiar voice. Patrick had come up behind her. "Hey, Patrick." Martin stood, waved at Patrick, and wandered toward the kegs. Patrick sat down next to Willow. Joe handed him a sparkler. Willow leaned back on her elbows. The strains of _St. James Infirmary_ and a heavy beat from the drummer mingled with the smell of burning sparklers and the sweeter smell of marijuana. "It's good to be a citizen," Patrick said. Willow inspected him for signs of irony. None. They talked briefly about the war which they were all against. It seemed far away, a bad dream. "Maybe we should get active," Patrick suggested, "demonstrate or something." Joe leaned forward. "You want to watch it," he said. "What do you mean?" "I had kind of a shock last week," Joe said. "You know Ox?" He looked at the others. "Sure," Art said. "He was in school with us; he's a state trooper," Joe explained. "We've had narcs around for a few years now, busting people for the evil weed." "Shit heads," Art said. "Like we really have a drug problem." "We spot the narcs," Joe said. "Anyway, I was having a beer with Ox in Buckman's, and he told me to watch my ass. He told me there was a list of radicals at headquarters. Subversives. 'They're watching you; that's all I can say.' " Joe shook his head. "I mean, I'm a veteran, for Christ's sake." "You're a dropout," Art said. Joe started to smile. "Look who's talking." "So, who's watching?" Martin asked. "Somebody is," Joe said. "Ox wouldn't have told me if he wasn't worried. FBI? CIA?" "Martin's a commie pinko," Art said. "Is he on the list?" "Should be," Joe said. "What about Morgan? And Gino?" "Subversives for sure. Down the Pentagon!" Joe raised his cup. "Down the Pentagon!" echoed across the valley. "O.K., Patrick," Amber said. "You can turn off the tape recorder." Patrick took a paper bag from his pack and held up a block of cheddar. He shook it by his ear. "Wasn't on," he said. "Might as well eat it, then," Sally said.