Our Fourth of July barbecue had always been a favorite family tradition. Every year the yard filled with relatives, neighbors, and too much food. My husband, Aaron, stayed by the grill the afternoon. Kids ran across the lawn with balloons and plastic bats. By sunset, everyone drifted toward the back fence to watch fireworks over the school field.
Then Emily brought Evan through the gate.
Nothing had ever disturbed that ritual before.
Then Emily brought Evan through the gate.
This year had felt better than usual, since Emily had called a few days earlier and asked if she could bring someone.
“I finally met someone I really like,” she said.
“I can’t wait for you and Dad to meet him.”
Emily was twenty-two, careful, and slow to trust. She did not talk that way unless she meant it. Hearing her so happy made me happy too.
