See How It's Done - First Page Critique

Today, I’m sharing the first page of a story from a brave author, who shall remain anonymous. It’s a story about a soldier returning from Vietnam. My critique follows the original.

Berkton, Indiana June 1970 
Leith Fleming stared up at the small-town church building before him, taking in the familiar sight of the peeling blue paint and the tall, white steeple. The double doors were open, and people, dressed up in their Sunday best, streamed in, talking and laughing.
“Whatcha waitin’ for?” Mary asked, and Leith looked over at his wife and grinned.
“Just thinking about how everything’s just as it was before. See? Mrs. Gladford’s even wearing that same yellow dress that makes her look like a duck.”
“Leith!” Mary exclaimed, sounding both appalled and amused. 
“Weawy?” Noah asked, his blue eyes going wide. “She’s a duck?”
“Now look what you’ve done, you chump,” Mary scolded. “No, Noah. Mrs. Gladford is not a duck.”
The three-year-old looked disappointed. “Oh.”
Leith just laughed. “Com’on, we’d better hurry, or they’re gonna start without us.” He started forward, ignoring Mary’s muttered comment about how she wasn’t the one wasting time calling people ducks.
But even as they settled in their pew, Leith couldn’t help but feel as if something was... off. He’d expected more of a greeting after being gone for a year, yet only a few people had acknowledged him back 
After the sermon, Leith and his family joined the stream of people filing out of the church. There was a picnic, so everyone headed to the long, food-loaded tables set up on the lawn.
Balancing a plate in one hand and a cup of lemonade in the other, he squinted in the bright June afternoon light and scanned the crowd for his family. He quickly spotted them sitting under the sprawling oak, Mary trying to have a conversation with another lady, all while juggling a plate full of food and a restless Noah. 
Leith headed over with a grin tugging at his mouth. Carefully setting his food down on the grass, he scooped Noah up and hoisted him with ease onto his shoulders. The boy giggled with glee, wrapping his small hands around the front of Leith’s shirt.
At the sound of Noah’s laugh, Mary looked up. Her gray-blue eyes twinkled at the sight, and a smile lit up her round, pretty face.
My critique: Berkton, IndianaJune 1970 
Good way to anchor us in place and time 
This story has a strong beginning. You plant seeds of tension and foreshadowing nicely. A very real part of the culture in 1970s was soldiers weren’t honored or treated with respect. I like the hint of PTSD. Very subtle plant—well done.
The major criticism is I think the writing could be tighter. Some words are unnecessary or redundant.
Leith Fleming stared up at the small-town church building unnecessary word--readers will know it’s a building before him, taking in the familiar sight of redundant after ‘stared’ the tighten peeling blue paint and the tall, white steeple. The double doors were open, and people, dressed up tighten in their Sunday best, streamed in, talking and laughing.
“Whatcha waitin’ for?” Mary asked. and Leith looked over at his wife and grinned.
Keith grinned at his wife. “Just thinking about how everything’s just as it was before. See? Mrs. Gladford’s even wearing that the same yellow dress that makes her look like a duck.”
“Leith!” Mary exclaimed, sounded both appalled and amused. 
“Weawy?” this word stopped me before I figured out Noah has a speech impediment— ‘weally’ might fit better Noah asked, his blue eyes going unnecessary wide. “She’s a duck?”
“Now look what you’ve done, you chump,” Mary scolded. “No, Noah. Mrs. Gladford is not a duck.”
The three-year-old looked disappointed. “Oh.”
Leith just ‘just’ is a filler word and usually doesn’t add anything to the story laughed use ‘chuckled’ to break up using ‘laughed’ too often. “Com’on C’mon, we’d better hurry, or they’re gonna start without us.” He started forward, ignoring Mary’s muttered comment about how she wasn’t the one wasting time calling people ducks.
But even tighten As they settled in their pew, Leith couldn’t help but feel as if something feels wordy feeling something was...off. He’d expected more of a greeting after being gone for a year, yet only a few people had passive verb acknowledged him back feels vague his return from the war. 
After the sermon, Leith and his family joined the stream used this word earlier flow of people filing out of the church. There was a picnic. Everyone headed to the long, food-loaded tables set up on the lawn.
Balancing a plate in one hand and a cup of lemonade in the other, he squinted in the bright June afternoon light and scanned the crowd for his family. He quickly spotted them sitting under the sprawling oak, Mary trying to have a conversation with another lady, all tighten while juggling a plate full of food and a restless Noah. 
Leith headed over with toward them, a suggestion for word flow a grin tugging at his mouth. Carefully setting his food down on the grass, he scooped Noah up and hoisted him Noah with ease onto his shoulders. The boy giggled with glee feels redundant, wrapping his small hands around the front of Leith’s shirt. Hard to visualize if he’s on his dad’s shoulders wrapping his small hands under his daddy’s chin..
At the sound of Noah’s laugh, Mary looked up. Her gray-blue eyes twinkled, and a smile lit her round, pretty face.
And here is the revised version incorporating my suggestions:
Leith Fleming stared at the small-town church, taking in the peeling blue paint and the tall, white steeple. The double doors were open, and people, dressed in their Sunday best, streamed in, talking and laughing.
“Whatcha waitin’ for?” Mary asked.
Keith grinned at his wife. “Just thinking about how everything’s just as it was. Mrs. Gladford’s even wearing thesame yellow dress that makes her look like a duck.”
“Leith!” Mary sounded both appalled and amused. 
“Weally?” Noah asked, his blue eyes wide. “She’s a duck?”
“Now look what you’ve done, you chump,” Mary scolded. “No, Noah. Mrs. Gladford is not a duck.”
The three-year-old looked disappointed. “Oh.”
Leith chuckled “C’mon, we’d better hurry, or they’re gonna start without us.” He started forward, ignoring Mary’s muttered comment about how she wasn’t the one wasting time calling people ducks.
As they settled in their pew, Leith couldn’t help feeling something was... off. He’d expected more of a greeting after being gone for a year, yet only a few people acknowledged his return from the war. 
After the sermon, Leith and his family joined the flow of people filing out of the church. There was a picnic. Everyone headed to the long, food-loaded tables set up on the lawn.
Balancing a plate in one hand and a cup of lemonade in the other, he squinted in the bright June afternoon light and scanned the crowd for his family. He spotted them sitting under the sprawling oak, Mary trying to have a conversation with another lady, while juggling a plate full of food and a restless Noah. 
Leith headed toward them, a grin tugging at his mouth. Carefully setting his food on the grass, he hoisted Noah with ease onto his shoulders. The boy giggled, wrapping his small hands under his daddy’s chin.
At the sound of Noah’s laugh, Mary looked up. Her gray-blue eyes twinkled, and a smile lit her round, pretty face.
What are your thoughts about the changes I suggest? What did I miss? What would you have done differently?
TWEETABLESee How It's Done - First Page Critique from author Henry McLaughlin (@RiverBendSagas) on @EdieMelson (Click to Tweet)
Henry’s debut novel, Journey to Riverbend, won the 2009 Operation First Novel contest.
Henry edits novels, leads critique groups, and teaches at conferences and workshops. He enjoys mentoring and coaching individual writers.
Connect with Henry on his BLOG, TWITTER and FACEBOOK.