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bridge when we come to it.”
    Even in the dark, it wasn’t hard to see him stiffen. Then he pulled away. She’d failed some kind of test.
    â€œStephen, what?”
    â€œNothing. It’s getting late. I’ll walk you home.”
    She could envision her father waiting on the front porch, a welcoming scowl on his face. “I’ll be fine on my own.”
    â€œYeah, you probably will. I’ll walk you to your street anyway,” he said.
    They left the park in an uncomfortable silence, and Muriel found herself at a loss, unsure of how to fill it.
    Once they got to her street corner he stopped. “Goodbye, Muriel.”
    â€œI’ll see you at the river tomorrow night for the fireworks,” she said.
    He nodded. Then he turned and walked away without so much as a goodbye kiss.
    Muriel went the rest of the way down the street with a heavy heart. Everything had been going so well until the subject of her father came up. Daddy was ruining her life.
    Just as she’d suspected, she got to the house to find him waiting for her on the front porch. He frowned as she walked up the porch steps. “You were with that boy, after I told you not to see him.”
    â€œDaddy, I’m not a little girl anymore. You can’t tell me who to see,” she snapped, and marched inside the house.
    â€œMuriel!”
    Ignoring the frustration in his voice, she kept moving. Once again, her bedroom door slammed, but this time nobody came to talk to her. Which was fine. She didn’t
want
to talk to anyone. She fell on her bed and indulged in a good cry. This was all wrong. She’d never fought like this with her father before—but then her father had never been so mean-spirited before.
    The next morning she entered the kitchen and found him at the red Formica table, nursing a cup of coffee. “You still mad at me?” he asked.
    â€œYes.” She opened the refrigerator and pulled out a carton of eggs. “Do you want an egg?”
    â€œSure,” he said, trying to sound amiable.
    She fried him one and made toast, then put bread in the toaster for Mother, who was strictly a toast-and-coffee girl.
    By the time Mother entered the kitchen, Muriel and her father were both seated at the table, eating in silence. “Well, we have a lovely day for a picnic, don’t we?” she said.
    â€œI’m not going.” The last thing Muriel wanted was to spend the day pretending she wasn’t mad at her father.
    â€œOf course you are,” Mother said in typical mother fashion. “We picnic with the Greens every year. Think how disappointed Olivia would be if you didn’t show up.”
    â€œHow about a truce for the day?” her father offered.
    As if she was a child, pouting because she’d been denied a toy? “Daddy, you don’t get it. This isn’t some fad I’m going to get over. I’m in love. Stephen is the man I want to spend the rest of my life with.”
    Her father set aside his coffee cup with a frown. “Muriel.”
    â€œYou haven’t even given him a chance. What would have happened to you and Mother if Grandpa hadn’t given
you
a chance? Did he like you at first? How well did he like you when he learned you wanted to marry Mother and move her over here?”
    Her father held up a hand. “Okay, point taken. Now, can we enjoy our day?”
    Muriel smiled at him. She’d battered down her father’s defenses and was well on her way to securing her future independence—a fitting victory for the Fourth of July.
    But she’d just exited the kitchen when she heard a snippet of conversation that left her lurking around the corner, eavesdropping.
    â€œThat was good of you,” said Mother.
    â€œNot really. I know Muriel thinks she and Galahad are going to be together, but the kid’s a drifter. He won’t stay beyond summer. There’s no sense arguing over something that isn’t going to