Author's note: Yes, I should have posted this back in August when I wrote it. I'm so sorry.

Disclaimer: Not mine, never will be. Let's move on.

Celebrate

by ALittleGandA

Shane had never been particularly fond of the Fourth of July. It wasn't the worst holiday – she certainly liked America – and she always appreciated having the day off. But none of her friends in D.C. had been particularly fond of barbeques, one of the major forms of recreation the holiday had to offer, and there was something painfully lonely about watching fireworks by yourself.

She smiled at the memory. She hadn't been by herself for a very long time.

"Here." Shane caught Rita's shoulder, guiding her down into the nearest lawn chair and handing her a slice of what appeared to be a berry-and-cream pie in shades of red, white and blue. "Norman's mother has Arden, Norman is re-wiring the toaster so Uncle Larry doesn't offer to, everyone's eaten so much they can barely move, and fireworks won't be for another hour. You can relax."

"Are you sure?" Rita asked, completely contradicting the gratitude in her expression as she dropped into the seat and accepted the pie.

Shane nodded solemnly. "I'm sure. And I had to fight off two of Norman's cousins for that pie."

Rita smiled. "That must be Lucy and Dale. They get very ... enthusiastic about Nora's cooking." She took a bite. "And it is very good pie."

"I'm sure it is." She patted Rita on the shoulder, then scanned the crowd of faces she still hadn't entirely identified after two summers. Norman's family was as strange as she'd always imagined them to be, but they'd welcomed her, Oliver and Hope as if they were simply another set of cousins.

She smiled as she caught sight of the people she had been looking for. Oliver and Hope were underneath the oak tree in the corner of the yard, intently focused on something she couldn't see. Already missing them though she'd only been gone a few minute, she moved closer.

Seeing her, Oliver looked up with a warm, welcoming smile. "Just in time."

"See?" Hope stood up, presenting the dandelion crown in her hands with a flourish. "For you, Mommy!"

Shane's throat tightened as she sat down next to them, Oliver as always offering a hand to help ease her way. "It's beautiful." She leaned forward just enough that the three-year-old could place the crown herself. "I'll cherish it always."

Hope clapped her hands. "Now you're queen of the castle!"

"Certainly of our little castle," Oliver said softly, gently squeezing her leg.

Shane covered his hand with hers, tangling their fingers together. "I'm amazed she didn't say 'Queen of the Post Office.'" She used her free hand to pull Hope closer, kissing her cheek. "I know how much you love it."

Her daughter patted her cheek. "Silly Mommy. *I'm* Queen of the Post Office." She considered for a minute. "You can be the princess, though."

Shane laughed. "Okay, but what about Daddy?"

"I will be your loyal subject," he said firmly. "Which means that you, my queen, need a flower crown of your own."

The three of them set to work on the crown, interrupted only by someone passing along a plate of cookies. Then Hope got distracted by sparklers, showing Arden how to draw pictures in the air with them while the rest of the evening slipped by.

The community fireworks display could be seen from the backyard, with most of the family gathering on the porch in order to watch the show. She and Oliver found a good spot next to the railing, standing Hope on the wood while Shane kept a firm hand around her waist.

Oliver tucked himself in next to both of them, bracing his own hand in front of their rather adventurous daughter. "And you were afraid you wouldn't be a good father," she whispered, turning her head so the words were for his ears alone.

His lips quirked. "It's not something I'd had a great deal of practice at."

When the fireworks began, he leaned in close to both her and Hope's ear and murmured the words to the "Star Spangled Banner" in poetry format, as it was originally written by Francis Scott Key. It was the only version Hope had heard thus far in her short life, and when she finally did hear the song Shane couldn't help but think that she'd find it disappointing.

"On the shore, dimly seen through the mists of the deep/Where the foe's haughty host in dread silence reposes..."

Leaning against him, Shane only half watched the fireworks as she focused on Oliver's voice washing over her. These days, it was the sound of home.

000

I also have an original novel and short story. They won't let me post the link, but if you look up "Jenniffer Wardell-books" on Google you'll be able to find it.