by Donna Fasano
Once again, she looked up at him. This time she blinked, her lashes brushing against pale cheeks as she whispered, “Could I?”
Lucas wasn’t really sure what she was asking, or exactly how she expected him to respond. She’d said her tears were because she was relieved. He had some of that running through him, as well. But she seemed confused and filled with such doubt that he knew in his heart his conscience would never be completely clear if he failed to point out the obvious.
“Tyne, maybe he left too soon. Maybe you should be discussing all this with him.”
The shake of her head was emphatic. So was her frown. “No. No.” She raked her teeth over her bottom lip. “I’m sure I did the right thing.” Pain flashed in her eyes and her voice sounded squeezed off as she whispered, “He didn’t like Zach.”
Lucas straightened. So she had noticed.
“Not that he disliked him,” she clarified. “But he didn’t seem…interested. One way or the other. At first, I thought it was Zach. I thought it might be because he was at an awkward age, that he could be prickly, standoffish. I thought maybe he was jealous of Rob. I thought the problem would resolve itself. I thought he’d come around once they got to know each other. But, little by little, I realized that Rob was just as indifferent to Zach as Zach was to Rob. I didn’t know what to think. Or do. Was it some kind of game they were playing? Was the testosterone level so high they were seeing who would break first? Should I confront them? Ignore them?” She sighed. “It was just easier to let it ride. But when Zach was picked up by the police, Rob’s apathy became absolutely unmistakable. This was no game. He just didn’t care. But I was too focused on solving Zach’s problem to deal with it.”
Her shoulder muscles eased. “Breaking it off was the right thing to do. I never should have accepted the ring in the first place.”
She reached over and plucked another tissue from the box. Lucas sensed that she’d done so simply because she needed something to do with her hands.
“Rob wanted to know if it was because of you.” She blurted the words so swiftly that they came out sounding husky. “If I broke our engagement because of you. I told him no, but…I’ve been feeling so strange since we got here.” She twisted the tissue between her fingers. “You said you believed that true love was some kind of fantasy. I guess I’d come to the same conclusion. Why else would I get so involved with Rob? And David? When both were men I didn’t love? It’s got to be a myth, right?”
Tiny pieces of the ragged tissue scattered across her lap, some on her shorts, some on her bare thighs. White fluff against creamy skin. Lucas swallowed, his mouth going dry.
“But I think we’re both wrong about that, you and I. Because we had it.”
The words exploded from her like an accusation; a charge she couldn’t prove.
He realized suddenly she was no longer sitting next to him, and when he looked up at her, her face bloomed with a rosy blush.
“I’m sorry,” she said, brushing at the bits of fiber that clung to her shorts. “I shouldn’t have said that. I didn’t mean it. I’m upset. I’ve been delving into the past. I thought I had things straight in my head, but Rob’s visit…I broke off the engagement. Gave him his ring. It’s got me all discombobulated.” Her laugh was too loud, and she continued swiping even though every speck of tissue was gone. “You shouldn’t be listening to me babble on and on.”
She narrowed her gaze on him. “What are you doing here, anyway? You’re supposed to be with Zach. Where is Zach?” The short questions were fired off with precision.
“We were thirsty,” he told her. “I came home for water.”
“Zach is waiting for you?”
She latched onto that excuse to end their conversation as if it were some sort of life-saving device, shooing him off the bed and out of the bedroom with fluttering hands. And he let her, because he was just as eager to end this discussion that had clearly bowled them both over.
“He’s probably dying,” she said. “There’s filtered water in the fridge.” She stayed at the bedroom door while he went into the hall toward the kitchen. “I’ve got a thousand things to do. That potato salad won’t make itself. And I need to run to the store. We’re out of milk.”
She talked as if he was keeping her from her vital tasks. Lucas smiled, despite the whirlwind of thoughts and questions rolling through his mind. She’d have made a good lawyer.
He ducked into the refrigerator and grabbed the steel fitness bottles filled with cold water, and when he glanced down the hall toward her room, she’d already disappeared from the doorway.
Lucas pushed his way out into the bright sunshine, those thoughts and questions still churning like mad in his head. He’d learned a lot about Tyne over the course of the last ten minutes. Hell, he’d learned loads. However, there was one thing he’d discovered, one thing she’d said, that intrigued him more than anything else. She’d said Henderson had asked her if she had broken their engagement because of Lucas.
I told him no, but…
But. It was a small word. Infinitesimal, really. Most people thought it to be quite insignificant. On the contrary, Lucas knew that thinking was flawed.
But. It could be major. Hell, it could be momentous. Any attorney would agree. Lawyers in every courtroom kept their ears perked for such a juicy plum presenting itself for plucking. The whole of the legal world knew that precedent-setting cases had been won and lost—all on account of that one tiny word.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Teens and cliques seemed to go hand in hand. Back when Tyne went to high school, there were the Rah-rahs and the Jocks, cheerleaders and athletes who lived in a world all their own and would rather die than be caught next to a Punkster, those kids who bragged about cutting class and smoking cigarettes or weed behind the gym. There were the Techs, those kids who boarded a bus each afternoon that took them to a school where they learned to rat hair or tune carburetors and who should never be confused with Techies who loved computers and gadgets and who couldn’t be confused with Trekies who dreamed of visiting galaxies far, far away with Captain James T. Kirk.
There were sub-groups within groups, insiders who snickered at outsiders, for the sole purpose of power, exclusion, and control. Coping mechanisms to combat pubescent insecurity.
But as the dusky pink twilight fell over the birthday gathering, Tyne couldn’t help noticing how well the Lenape teens got along. Sure, there was some teasing, but there was nothing mean-spirited in it. There could have been some underlying tensions going on; these were normal teens, but from what Tyne witnessed, these kids were amazingly friendly toward one another. It could be that the inequitable treatment these young men and women received from outside their close community impelled them to be more open to their own, more embracing of individual differences.
The change in Zach was unbelievable. Just as Jasper had predicted, her son had been contemplative for days following his camping trip. When he communicated, it was in quiet tones and measured words. He did what he was told without argument. He pitched in around the house. He hadn’t asked about visiting his grandparents, hadn’t mentioned Oak Mills even once. If Tyne hadn’t witnessed his dark eyes shine with anger earlier today, she might have suspected that Jasper left her son out in the woods and brought her back a ‘Stepford’ child.
The incident had been sparked when a group of teens had arrived at the house that morning planning to drive to Millersville to swim at the home of a friend of one of the girls. Tyne didn’t know the driver of the car, didn’t know the other teens, and the way they’d hemmed and hawed answering her questions about adult supervision had made her uncomfortable. She’d finally told Zach he couldn’t go, and he’d been furious. She’d braced herself for a tirade.
He’d wrestled with his emotions, then he’d grown quiet, taken a couple of deep breaths, and walked away. The other teens left with shouted promises of seeing Zach at the birthday party later that on in the evening. Although her son hadn’t spoken to her fo
r a couple of hours after that, Tyne couldn’t really call his behavior sulking. He’d agreed to help Lucas replace the handle on the shed in the backyard, and once they had returned from the hardware store, she’d heard them laughing together as each took a turn trying to pry off the old, rusted latch.
If Jasper could find a way to bottle whatever techniques he’d used to transform her son, the man would be a millionaire.
“I brought you some water.” Lucas handed her the bottle and then sat down beside her on the old quilt they’d brought to the party.
“Thanks.” Tyne unscrewed the top and took a drink.
He looked over to where Dorothy Johnson was being fawned over. A little boy was perching a paper tiara on the old woman’s head.
“She looks happy, doesn’t she?” Lowering his voice, he added. “And she doesn’t look a day over ninety-eight.”
“Lucas!” Tyne laughed. “I can’t imagine living a hundred years, can you?”
He grinned at her. “A better question is would we want to?”
Tyne causally lowered her chin, studying the cap of the bottle she’d just opened, a bright spot of white against the green cotton cloth. All he had to do was flash those dark eyes at her and her body reacted erratically.
Over by the cake table, Dorothy laughed and clapped at something the child said to her.
“Not that you wouldn’t make a beautiful centenarian,” he murmured.
Again, Tyne laughed. “Do you care much about beauty at that age?”
He shrugged and then stretched his long legs out in front of him, resting his weight on his elbows. The blue jeans he wore only seemed to accentuate his muscular thighs, and it was easy for Tyne to remember smoothing her hands over them even though she hadn’t touched him intimately in what felt like an entire lifetime.
“The chicken’s delicious,” he told her. “I snatched a piece. You should have something to eat.”
She nodded. “Later. I’m too busy watching all these people. There’s so much going on.”
A group of toddlers kicked a ball not too far away. Women shuffled bowls and platters of food on the long row of tables in order to make more room as people arrived with their potluck offerings. Further out on the field, a dozen or so adults played a game that looked a little like football, but the rules were obviously different. It was men vs. women. The men couldn’t run the ball but could only pass it from one player to another in their attempt to cross the goal line. The women could run, pass, and punt, and they became inordinately physical with the men in order to steal the ball. One woman jumped on a man’s back, tugged on his ears, then covered his eyes with one hand and smacked the ball from his grasp with the other. Her teammate scooped the ball off the ground and raced like the wind. When they’d arrived for the party, Lucas had told her the game was called pahsahëman. The players were having a good time, but the game looked too rough for Tyne to give it a try.
“I’ve missed this.” He tapped his thumbs on the blanket as if he were keeping the beat of some rhythm playing in his head. “The food. The family and friends. It’s really nice.” His thumbs stilled and he sank a little lower. “It feels homey. Comfortable. Right.”
The way his voice had gone all soft around the edges made her belly tense. The bottle of water she held was slick with condensation. She reached up and brushed her moist fingers across her forehead. “You ever think about moving back?”
Without hesitation, he said, “I couldn’t make any money here.” He sat there looking at her, and then tilted his head slightly as some inscrutable emotion passed over his face. Then in one effortless motion he sat up, bent his legs and palmed his knees. “Well, I’ll be damned if he wasn’t right.”
Tyne tucked her feet beneath her. “Who was right? What are you talking about?”
“Uncle Jasper.” Once again, his thumbs started drumming but this time on his knees. “A couple weeks ago, we had words.” His palms lifted up in the air for an instant. “Well, as much as anyone can argue with Jasper, anyway. The man’s never raised his voice in his life, I don’t believe. Doesn’t have to. He chooses just the right thing to say to make you feel about this tall.” He held his index finger and thumb less than an inch apart.
Tyne had known something was going on between the two men.
Lucas rubbed his palms back and forth across his knees, gazing out at the field.
“So,” she gently prodded, “what’d he say?”
Lucas was so deep in thought she doubted he was even aware she’d spoken. She busied herself taking a sip of water then putting the cap back onto the bottle. A little boy shouted in triumph when he caught the ball tossed to him by his mother. Dorothy admired a necklace made of dyed pasta strung on bright yellow yarn, a gift from a girl who looked about six or seven. The child’s eyes glowed as Dorothy leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek.
“He told me a story. About a fish, making its way to the ocean. Jasper feels that my ambition—”
Lucas’s tone was almost a whisper.
“—has caused me to lose sight of Lenape values. Giving up pieces of myself. That’s what he insinuated.” He balled his hands and propped his elbows on his knees. “I thought I was reaching for success.” He tapped his knuckles against his chin. “I’ve got a four bedroom house in the city. Two new cars. A walk-in closet full of designer suits. A timeshare in Fort Lauderdale. Another in Vale I’ve never even seen.” The sound he emitted was harsh. “I’ve only been to the one in Florida once. Couldn’t stand all that heat and solitude. I give away my vacation weeks. Or lose them in the Wednesday night poker games.” He shook his head, his stark gaze turning full on her face. “How extravagant can one person be?”
Tyne thought of how she’d struggled and did without in order to provide for Zach. If it hadn’t been for David’s life insurance and the subsidy she’d qualified for because she was both a first-time home buyer and a single mother, she never would have achieved the dream of owning a house. Her two-bedroom row home was cozy, but it was enough. Her battered Toyota wasn’t totally reliable, but that was the next big ticket item on her list to replace just as soon as her saving account was padded enough to take the hit. She thought of all the times Zach had asked for things—ridiculously expensive sneakers, an iPad, a skateboard that cost more than three months worth of electric bills—and she’d had to say no simply because she couldn’t afford them.
“From the time I was a kid,” Lucas said, “I was taught that taking and giving was necessary. As normal as breathing. We inhale the oxygen we need and exhale the carbon dioxide that’s crucial to every plant and flower and tree on earth. Give and take. Every Elder I ever talked to lectured that taking more than what’s needed upsets the balance of nature.”
Half a dozen questions sprouted in her mind about how he’d been raised verses his current extravagant lifestyle, but she held her tongue. The concentration etched on his brow and the set of his jaw told her he was doing plenty of self-examining all on his own.
Tyne watched as Jasper and four other men helped the teens wheel a flatbed cart from the rear door of the Community Center. A large drum sat securely on the cart. A group of teens, Zach included, lifted the drum and gingerly set it on the grass near the small fire that crackled and flickered against the growing darkness. The game of pahsahëman broke up, the adults laughing and talking as they made their way over to the bonfire.
Five young men formed a tight semi-circle, shoulder to shoulder, and began to pound a beat on the drum while Jasper sang. Two other Elders made their way toward the drumming and took up the chant. The strong harmony carried on the hot summer air, haunting and powerful.
A couple of the teens looked self-conscious, but not Zach. His smile was as broad as his puffed chest, his dark head bobbing with each synchronized strike on the drum.
“He really does fit in up there, you know?” Lucas murmured. “He’s loving it.”
Tyne only nodded silently, thinking the same thing. She’d never seen her son enjoying himself s
o thoroughly.
The strains for the first song had barely ended when the second began. This one was livelier than the last. One of the drummers waved at a man in the crowd to join him; Zach invited Lucas with a short jerk of his head. Lucas jumped to his feet and jogged over; his shoulder pressed against Zach’s as he took up a knobby stick and thumped the ancient beat.
It was a good scene, a happy scene. But watching father and son bonding around the ceremonial drum filled her with sadness. It also made her doubt every decision she’d ever made as Zach’s mother.
• • •
Later that evening, Tyne helped herself to strawberry short cake, smiling when the young woman at the table scooped a dollop of freshly whipped cream on top. The fruit was sweet on her tongue, the cake, buttery, the thick cream, delectably rich.
The teens had taken a break from drumming and a trio of flautists were entertaining the crowd, the wooden instruments producing an orphic melody that flowed like a lazy river.
The small hairs on the back of her neck stood on end when someone approached her from behind.
“Come with me,” Lucas whispered close to her ear. “I want to show you something.”
Ever since he’d drummed with their son, his gaze kept seeking her out and finding her. When she’d gone to give Dorothy her birthday gift, she’d felt him watching. And during a conversation with Jasper, she again caught Lucas staring.
He slipped the plate from her fingers and set it on the table, then he took her hand and led her away from the gathering.
Before he’d taken his first step, instinct told her where he was headed. Vivid memories skimmed across her skin like fairy dust, raising goose flesh and making it difficult to breathe.