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A Hometown 4th of July

By June Foster

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Chapter One


Max Tate stepped off the sidewalk onto the pavement. He placed a hand over his forehead shading his eyes from the glaring sun, craned his neck, and peered up the street.
"Watch out, Mister," a youthful voice yelled.
Max spun around. A kid on a bike barreled toward him, then wobbled as he tried to avoid a certain collision. Whack! The handlebar's tip jabbed Max's hip, throwing him off balance and onto the roadway. "Ouch."
"Sorry, Mister!" The boy and his cohorts breezed by.
He looked around for his canvas slip-on -- which slid off his foot -- and dodged another kid, this one on a tricycle with red, white, and blue crepe paper draped from the handlebars. Max grabbed his shoe off the ground and scrambled back to the sidewalk before the next dangerous rider could run him over.
Max plopped down under a tree and fitted his shoe back onto his foot. He'd had a bad enough day yesterday. If the same old argument with his parents hadn't given him an ulcer, he might get one today.
Still, he'd come to watch the annual Fourth of July Parade, and not to do battle with the pesky children. He cupped a hand over his forehead and peered out to the street. Women in red shirts and blue jeans pushed babies in strollers decorated with balloons. Where was the best part -- the endless procession of antique cars, from the muscle autos, to the turn-of-the century Model A's and T's?
Max scrunched his toes and pushed himself up. He glanced through the trees lining the sidewalk. A block down, across from the drugstore, a '71 GMC pickup inched forward. Finally.
He should've worn his Mariners cap, the way the midday sun over Ft. Freedom beat down on him.
Whap.
Ice-cold goo slid from the top of his head to his ears. Max stretched his neck back to investigate the sky above him. A little girl -- eyes wide and mouth open, perched in the lower limbs of the cottonwood -- held an empty sugar cone in her hand.
With apprehension of what he'd find, he brought his hand to the side of his head, scooped up a handful of gunk, and opened his palm. Chocolate chips with runny ice cream slid through his fingers.
The girl drew her free hand over her mouth. "Uh-oh. Something bad happened." The bratty kid turned her head toward a shapely woman with long, strawberry-blond hair. The gentle Pacific breeze lifted a strand from the woman's face.
Max ran the fingers of his other hand through the chocolate chips and ice cream still oozing down his neck.
One cup of coffee hadn't been enough this morning when he'd sleepwalked out of his apartment over Dad's garage. After the terse words with his parents last night and their refusal to provide him with the information he'd requested for the fifth time, he didn't want to chance seeing them again today. So he'd settled for the one cup. Now no amount of coffee would make him feel better. Did every kid in his hometown on the southern shores of Puget Sound have it in for him today?
The girl's mother curved around from her spot on the sidewalk and angled her head up to her daughter perched in the tree. With a horror filled face, the woman glanced back at him. "Jada, what did you do?" Her faced grew pale as she clutched her throat. "Oh, I'm so sorry." Lifting a hand to her hip, she raised her voice. "Jada, get down from there."
The girl thrust her lower lip over the top one. "I just wanted to see the parade better." The child's voice shook as tears rolled down her cheeks.
Max had never seen such a pitiful expression on a someone's face. The girl cried loud sobs now -- probably because she thought she was in trouble rather than being sorry for dropping ice cream on some innocent person on the sidewalk.
What a shame. Some mothers don't know how to control their kids.
Max furrowed his brow. "Look, lady. Your daughter doesn't belong in a tree with an ice cream cone."
She regarded him a moment and pressed her lips together in a half-smile. "Oh, she's not my daughter. Jada's my niece." The woman fished in her purse and pulled out a few tissues. "Here. Take these. I'm terribly sorry."
Her niece now empty handed, pointed at her cone lying on the grass. She held onto the branch with the other hand, her eyes as wide as the tires on the '69 Ford Mustang he wished he could get a better look at. His favorite section of the once-a-year parade rolled past on the street.
"Jada, I said come down, now." The woman's cheeks turned a soft pink.
Even if the kid was her niece, she should be able to control her. He jerked the tissues from the woman's hand and raked a couple over his hair. Then he threw them into the nearby garbage receptacle with more force than he'd intended.
What was he supposed to do now? He scowled at Jada's aunt but couldn't help relaxing his tense muscles as he gazed at her bright blue eyes and petite freckled nose. The girl-next-door type. Kind of hard to stay mad at someone that attractive -- and curvaceous. His gaze traveled from her red, white, and blue tee to her well-fitting jeans hugging her hips.
On the parade route, an amateurish high school band with maroon uniforms played "Stars and Stripes Forever." The antique cars were at least two blocks past him. He'd missed them. The toots and booms of the band transformed Max's nerves back to livewires again.
He straightened, and then caught sight of the little kids sitting on the curb snickering and pointing at him. He glanced at the woman. "Ma'am, these tissues didn't do much good." A tug of war between scowl and smile played out in his mood and on his face. Finally, he laughed and shook his head. "You know, who doesn't need an ice cream bath once in a while? Have a great Fourth." He waved and turned to walk down the street.
"Wait, please," she pleaded.
Max turned and gave her his attention.
"My niece would like to say something to you."
The child scuttled down the tree trunk and dropped to the sidewalk. The little girl with the same blue eyes stuck out her lip and held onto her aunt's leg.
"Yes, ma'am?" He scraped a few more chocolate chips out of his hair.
Jada pressed her nose against the woman's waist and slipped tight arms around her aunt's hips. Her aunt tugged her away and blew out a stream of air. "Jada, tell the
man, now."
Jada inched around, pulled her shoulders forward, and stared at the ground. In slow motion she raised her head, the corners of her mouth in a downward bow and her lower lip protruding. "Aunt Lynn said to say I'm sorry, Mister."
Lynn wrapped her arm around the child's shoulders. "She's usually a good girl. I think she's ashamed about what happened."
Max sympathized with the little girl. She had an ogre under her tree and was forced to be nice to him when he hadn't shown her the same courtesy. "Well, let me apologize to you, too. I was a little grumpy, wasn't I? Accidents happen, and well, I need to be a little nicer when they do." He stood. "I hope you enjoy the rest of the parade."
"Sir," the woman's soft voice rose again. She raised a shapely arm and waved. "Happy Fourth of July."

*****

Lynn stopped at the last booth in the vendors' section on Second Street, one road over from the parade route on Main. She had to force herself not to buy any of the lavender products she loved, especially the teas and the oils. Her job with the state didn't pay enough for her to splurge.
She rubbed at the knot in her neck and caught a deep breath. She didn't mind helping Kara out every so often, but today had been a disaster when her seven-year-old niece dropped her double-dip ice cream cone on the guy.
She stifled the urge to giggle. The man looked pretty funny with chocolate chips matting his dark brown hair, but was distractingly handsome with his olive complexion and gorgeous green eyes.
Lynn hoped she didn't run into him again. He'd probably yell and take off in the opposite direction. Poor guy. He hadn't seen the end of the parade with the police and sheriffs' cars, the high school girls twirling batons, and the rows of boys carrying United States flags.
Lynn waved at Kara and her husband Archer at the other end of the vendors' booths lining the street on both sides.
Kara ogled the turquoise jewelry handcrafted by the local Indian tribe. She grasped Jada's hand as the three of them strolled to the next booth.
Lynn breathed a sigh of relief. She was off-duty for the day. She took one more glance toward the booth section.
Kara pointed at her watch and waved as they walked toward the parking area.
Though Kara had invited her to the family cookout, Lynn still didn't know if she wanted to go or stay for the street dance and fireworks. Since Mom and Dad moved away, things didn't seem the same. Her two older brothers and their wives and kids were going, and she would probably get stuck doing most of the work. All her sisters-in-law ever did was chase after their kids.
Her brochure with the schedule of events said the street dance would start in a while, followed by the big event of the evening -- the fireworks display at dusk. She headed toward the ferry.
The park lay east of the ferry. Maybe she'd relax under the big trees and whale watch until the dance started. Then she'd make up her mind whether or not to leave for her sister's cookout.
Lynn crossed the street and stepped through the grass toward the bandstand. The view of Puget Sound, the islands, and the snow-covered mountains in the distance never failed to delight her -- especially this time of year. A long, white fence stood guard in front of the drop-off to the waters below.
Though the ferry dock was closed today for the Fourth, on weekdays the lines were long. Islanders working on the mainland kept the ferries busy with their commutes. Other than holidays, Lynn had never seen the water taxis inactive.
The concrete bench facing the bandstand cooled her back. No Evening Under the Stars performances tonight. Not with all the other Fourth of July festivities.
The warm sun and the salty air worked some of the tension out of her body as she leaned back and closed her eyes.
Jada hadn't dropped her cone on purpose so Lynn thought it best not to tell Kara. She didn't want her sister to know she'd allowed her niece to climb trees or that Jada had doused a man in ice cream.
The corners of Lynn's mouth turned up as the image of the guy traipsing away from them played in her mind.
Lifting the lashes of her sleepy eyes, she listened to the seagulls' familiar call. She glanced toward the ferry station again. About fifty yards from her, the guy -- now looking a lot cleaner and less gooey -- sat propped up against a tree trunk chewing on a piece of grass. He'd changed shirts, his dark hair now free of ice cream.
The look on his face told her his mind was somewhere else, not in Ft. Freedom. She scooted down on the bench. He hadn't seen her. Maybe she should walk the other way while she could. He certainly wouldn't want to talk to her after this morning. The impatience in his voice at first had made her cringe.
Easing up from her seat, she sidled around, sneaking toward the street, now doubting whether she should stay for the dance. The strains of a local country music band drifted her way.
"Hey, wait up."
Oh, no.
He approached her, a smile on his face. More handsome than he looked this morning, his emerald eyes flickered, and his grin told her he was in a better mood.
"Hey, Lynn, isn't it? I think I heard your niece call you that." He stuck out his hand, his nails clean but the tips of his fingers stained. "I didn't introduce myself earlier. I'm Maxwell Tate, but everyone calls me Max."
Accepting his hand, she allowed a smile. "Lynn Marshall. You aren't by any chance related to Tate and Associates, the law firm here in Ft. Freedom?"
"Yeah, that's my dad. I didn't exactly follow in his footsteps, though. I'm a mechanic at Paul's Automotive." He studied his tennis shoes. "I'm sorry about earlier. I... guess I was in a bad mood. I had a rough day at work yesterday, then an argument with my parents when I got home -- though I know that's no excuse."
"It looks like you've recovered from your baptism with ice cream."
He shoved his hands in his pocket. "Yeah, I walked home and took a shower." He pointed toward the sound. "I just live a few blocks from here."
Lynn puckered her lips in a silent whistle. His parents must be wealthy. Those houses near town were expensive. "Well, the little culprit's gone home with her parents. I think she's more repentant than she showed, but if you want to know the truth, she was probably more upset she'd lost her ice cream." Lynn snickered. "She needs to learn her lesson."
From the street dance, the John Michael Montgomery tune "I Swear" met her ears.
"Look, can I prove I'm not the world's worst ogre?"
She searched his face. Her impression of him switched from grumpy to gorgeous, but was he one of those temperamental guys? Growing up with two brothers, she'd had enough of that type.
He looked like a little boy as he blinked and gave her a bashful grin. "Would you like to walk over and listen to the music?"
If he got moody again, she could always get in her car and leave. "Yeah, sure."
From the grassy park, they crossed First Street. The globe-shaped street lights up and down Second began to flicker on though the sun hadn't dropped below the horizon. The fresh scent of the evergreens and the aroma of wood burning in a metal fire pit floated through the early evening air.
Seven or eight couples swayed to the tunes in front of the band opposite the vendor booths.
The music switched to bluegrass. A guy playing a guitar strummed alongside another on a banjo, both in tee shirts with the words "Independence Day". A lady sporting a shirt with "Proud to be an American" slid a bow over her fiddle. Between two large speakers another man crooned into a microphone.
Lynn followed Max as they joined a crowd standing on the sidewalk. Some of the spectators sat in folding chairs, talking and laughing.
The strains of bluegrass gave way to "Always on my Mind."
Max stood as if spellbound. The last notes of the Willie Nelson version of the song died away. "Are you going to hang around for the fireworks?"
The group began "By the Time I Get to Phoenix" as Lynn weighed her options. Would she rather go to her sister's and get lost in the middle of her large family as usual, or would she rather stay here and watch the fireworks with this good-looking guy? The decision wasn't hard to make. "Yeah, I didn't get to see them last year."
He narrowed his gaze, a bent of mischief in his eyes. "Come on. I'll show you the best spot in Ft. Freedom to watch."

*****

Max motioned for Lynn to follow him around the side of his parents' house -- past the bougainvillea climbing on Mom's trellises and the flower beds filled with rose bushes -- to the deck. "I know what this looks like. Rich kid living off his parents in their beautiful waterfront home," he turned toward her, "but I pay premium rent on my garage apartment, and I'm in charge of yard maintenance. Besides, who would want to move away from this place? I love it." The sun disappeared behind the western horizon hurling rays of yellow, pink, and silver into the sky.
His parents' backyard and this deck facing Puget Sound had always been one of Max's favorite places. The blue waters with the tree-lined islands in the background enchanted him. How many times during the summer months had he seen a whale or a dolphin migrating north?
Had he been too bold asking her to watch the fireworks with him here? He wasn't trying to hit on her. Respect for women -- one of the many things Dad had taught him.
He pulled two lawn chairs to the edge of the deck. "I promise you're in for a treat." There was nothing better than his own private viewing of the Fourth of July displays. Not surprisingly, the inside of the house didn't feel as comfortable. He needed to face the facts. He'd never been a true Tate.
Lynn sank down into the teak lawn chair's blue and green striped cushion.
She gasped as red, white, and blue lights lit up the night sky. A spray of silver, like a fountain of water, cascaded across a dark canvas. "The colors take my breath away."
With a hiss as an introduction, a spiral of red light soared straight up, followed by blue, then silver streaks.
She held two hands over her mouth. Her face brightened as she squealed.
Max couldn't take his eyes off her as she peered at the display like an enthusiastic little girl.
Though he found her attractive, he couldn't afford to get interested in anyone right now. A relationship was the furthest thing from his mind.
More than anything else, he had to discover his roots first before he brought a woman into his life. But he'd met with resistance every time he tried. Mom and Dad never offered a clue about his biological parents no matter how many questions he asked. All they'd ever told him was they adopted him at age four.
Like waking up in the morning and trying to remember the obscure dream from the night before, he had vague memories of a woman with long, dark hair. Oddly enough, he remembered watching the fireworks in this backyard and sitting on her lap. Was she his mother?
Every time Max looked in the mirror, his dark hair and green eyes attested to the fact he wasn't related to his blond, blue-eyed siblings.
Finally, the heavens grew dark and silent. Max glanced at Lynn. Her eyes remained on the skies for a long moment before she gave him a look of disappointment.
"That's it until the next Fourth of July," he said.
"I'll meet you here the same time next year." She laughed as she stood and stretched her arms. "Thanks for sharing your backyard. I guess I better go. Tomorrow's a work day."
"Where do you work?"
"In the Office of Program Research in Olympia. I'm a research analyst to assist members of the House in making legislative decisions."
Max slanted a glance at her. "You must have a lot of patience. I'm terrible with computers."
"It's tedious work at times. Sometimes I have to search for weeks to locate the smallest bit of information."
Though the evening was cool, beads of sweat broke out on his forehead. Perhaps Lynn could help him locate his birthmother through a computer search. If he could find her, maybe the hunger to belong to a real family would go away.
Sure, he and his sisters got along fine when they were all little, but as soon as he hit his teens, things changed. Maybe it was his attitude, but he became more aware of his adoption as he grew older. His fists formed tight balls. Adopted kids were second rate. They didn't belong to their parents like children born into a family.
The Tates must've been forced to take him because his real mother never wanted him. Yet he could hope she'd changed her mind by now.
If only his parents would talk to him instead of acting so secretive. If they could at least tell him what they knew of his natural parents, perhaps he could move on.
Lynn turned toward the side of the house the way they'd come in. "Good night, Max. Again, I apologize for this morning."
He stared at her as she left the yard and stepped onto the sidewalk.
What am I doing? "Wait. Let me see you to your car. Where are you parked?" He jogged to catch up to her.
She slowed and glanced over her shoulder. "On a side street close to Main."
They ambled down the sidewalk, sidestepping folks who were leaving the day-long event.
"Does your family live in Ft. Freedom?" he asked.
She nodded but didn't add to the conversation.
"Well, I know you have a niece. Do you have parents or other siblings in the area?"
"Two brothers. They're married with kids of their own. Jada's mother and her husband live here, but my parents moved to Chicago."
"A big family. Sounds fun."
She laughed.
"What's so amusing?"
"You. This morning, you didn't think my niece was so fun."
He laughed, too. "Well, you have to admit, cold ice cream falling from the sky and dripping down your face can be a bit of a shock." He slipped his hands in his pocket. "I didn't behave too graciously. I hope you'll tell Jada 'I'm sorry' for me."
She nodded, and he followed alongside her across Main Street.
"My car's down the block to the right." A blue Ford Tempo was parked across the street from Freedom Christian Fellowship.
"What do you know? You parked right in front of my church." He leaned against her car when they reached it, the street light illuminating the surrounding area. "Do you attend church in town?"
She looked toward the hundred-year-old wooden structure then to the twenty-foot steeple. "No. Can't say I do."
"Well, why don't you come with me?" he asked, then kicked himself. He wasn't looking for a relationship and didn't want to take the chance of starting one.
A question crossed her face. "To church? Well, uh, I don't know."
On the other hand, he didn't need to have an ulterior motive for inviting someone to church. "You could try it once, but if you're not comfortable, I would understand." And maybe she could tell him a little more about how to obtain the information he needed about his mother.
So much for not having an ulterior motive.
She bit the end of her little finger. "Well...I guess. This once."
"Good." Max winced, clenching his teeth. He wanted to see Lynn again, but it had nothing to do with getting to know her better. His motives were selfish. But if God wanted him to find his mother, this was the first step, wasn't it?

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