If We Found Heaven ✓

twenty-nine ♫

July, Marie, Riley, and July's father sat in a semi-circle around the fireplace. Marie and Riley were singing patriotic songs at the top of their lungs while July halfheartedly played the drums and her father strummed his guitar. It felt like deja vu. They had sat in this same formation many times before, though it had always been July's mother holding hands with Riley as they sang. Sure, Marie was her stepmother, but it had never felt like she was trying to replace the late Mrs. Sullivan the way it did now. Singing these songs on July 4th had always been July's mother's thing. It was weird to do it with Marie. The song finished, and Marie and Riley dissolved into laughter.

July couldn't help remarking silently on their similarities - both had blonde hair and graceful, gazelle-like bodies that you would find on the cover of Sports Illustrated. Hell, in a couple years, Riley probably would be on the cover of Sports Illustrated. July's father caught her eyes and he offered her a lopsided smile. She forced herself to smile back at him.

If she let herself imagine, July could see her mother sitting there with her bright red hair and warm brown eyes. Lydia had had naturally blonde hair, the same as Riley did. She had always dyed it red, though, for July's benefit. "So we can match," she used to say, winking.

Lydia Sullivan had been a well-to-do businesswoman in a world that was determined to squash the feminine presence in the workplace. She had insisted on wearing suits made for men and she had carried a clean leather briefcase out the front door every morning. July had always admired her for the dignity with which she conducted herself, and the determination she had to go far.

July's father was the dreamer. He played guitar in bars on Sunday nights and busked in San Francisco on the occasional afternoon. He was a handyman by trade, but a musician by heart, and he was damn lucky that Lydia made enough money at her corporate job to make up for the days when he fell asleep in the morning while composing and never left the house.

July herself had gotten what she liked to call the worst of both worlds. She was a musician like her father and had retained the stubborn, feminist ideals of her mother. She lacked the drive and the motivation to go into business, to go into a soul-killing job that made you hate your existence. And, of course, she was prone to staying up all night composing and then falling fast asleep when the sun came up.

The sky was dark as she tucked Riley into bed. July was well aware that Riley was far too old to still be tucked in, but she couldn't help herself. Being tucked in by Lydia had been one of July's favorite parts of every day when she was younger. She hummed absent-mindedly as Riley rolled over to switch off the lamp on her nightstand.

"July?" Riley asked.

"Hmm?"

"Can we go shopping tomorrow?"

July frowned a little. "I think that we're going on a trip to the beach. I mean, that was the plan, at least, before everything went to hell."

"What happened?" Riley asked, sitting up. Her expression was curious.

July sighed. "Cass is mad at us."

"Why?" Riley's brow furrowed. "What did you guys do?"

"Why do you assume it was our fault?" July asked pleasantly, ruffling Riley's hair with a fond smile on her face.

Riley shrugged. "You usually screw little things up."

July stuck out her tongue. "Not true!"

Riley raised her eyebrows, and July suppressed a snort at the sheer sass. "Seriously?"

July gave a light-hearted huff. "Okay, okay, fine. I did screw it up."

"What did you do?"

"Stood her up," July replied. "Forgot about our lunch. I feel awful."