by Donna Fasano
No one said a word for several long seconds.
Tyne leaned forward, twisting to face Lucas. “I could try to get someone to cover my weekends for a while.”
“Ms. Whitlock,” the judge said, “I understand your dilemma. You’re a single, working parent trying to raise a teenager on your own. I empathize. But I would be derelict in my duties if I didn’t stress that there’ll be no trying in whatever strategy we make here today. We will do something solid. Something concrete.”
Lucas spent most of his weekends reading briefs. But he couldn’t see why the kid couldn’t hang out at his place while he read.
“I don’t think I’ve made you understand the importance of what’s happening here today,” Judge Taylor told Tyne. “If your son shows up in my courtroom again, you won’t be seeing him for a while. Unless, of course, you go to Juvenile Hall for a visit. Do I make myself clear?” He narrowed his gaze at Zach. “Don’t let the name fool you, son. It’s a prison. With bars on the windows and guards who carry weapons.”
Eight out of every ten minors.
Bad odds. Very bad odds.
Lucas stole a glance at Zach. Fear hummed from the teen like low-voltage current, but he was doing his damnedest to hide it behind a tight, you-can’t-hurt-me smirk that would only get him into deeper trouble. The kid’s badass attitude churned up startling emotions in Lucas; dread, frustration, guilt.
He could be sitting here staring at himself at that age.
“Your Honor, what if I were to take him out of town for a time?” The question surprised Lucas just as much as it seemed to surprise everyone else in the courtroom. All eyes turned to him.
“Some litigation I’ve been working on was recently settled.”
Judge Taylor nodded. “I read about that in this morning’s paper. Congratulations, Counselor.”
Lucas nodded his appreciation, but his mind fixed on the almost impossible logistics of making his suggestion happen. “I only have a couple other cases I’m working on at the moment. I could pass them on to colleagues. Clear my desk. Zach and I could go to Wikweko. The town where I grew up.” He glanced down the table, noted Tyne’s stunned expression, but didn’t let it deter him from asking, “Zach is out of school for the summer, right?”
Tyne’s fiancé casually examined his cuticles, and an odd irritation flared in Lucas.
When Tyne didn’t answer, Lucas looked at Zach. “You must have several weeks of vacation left, right?” Suspicion clouded his son’s dark gaze.
Lucas turned to the judge. “Wikweko is a Lenape community near Lancaster. A month or so there and Zach’s life would change forever. I’m sure of it, Judge. There’s plenty of open space. Hiking. Fishing. And community events—tribal gatherings. Zach could learn about his heritage.” His heart started to race. The more he thought about this idea, the more it excited him. “You know, Your Honor, I haven’t taken a vacation in…” His short bark of laughter held an odd note. Vacation? What the hell was that? “I’m sure I could get away from the office for a month. They owe me that. I’d only need a couple of days to sort things out. Then we could head off to—”
“You’re not taking Zach anywhere.” Tyne’s shrill voice sliced through his enthusiasm.
“You have a problem with your son getting to know his father, Ms. Whitlock?” the judge asked.
“I haven’t seen this man for…for…years. Many years. I don’t know what kind of person he is.” Panic edged her words. “I refuse to allow—”
“Mr. Hawk is a well-respected attorney,” Taylor pointed out. “An attorney with a plan. A plan that’s sounding really good to me, actually. Healthy, outdoor activity, and father-son bonding time. What more could we ask for?”
Lucas leaned forward and looked down the table. “Tyne, you’re welcome to come along. I’m only thinking of Zach.”
“I can’t just drop everything and leave the city for a month, Lucas.” Her blue eyes narrowed and her jaw tensed. “I have a business to run.”
“What about what I want?” Zach blurted. “Does anyone care what I want?”
Judge Taylor peered over his eyeglasses once again. “Sorry, son. You lost your vote when you ran the train off the track.” He pushed at his glasses with his index finger. “Ms. Whitlock, if you own this catering business—”
“Co-own,” she corrected. “I am co-owner of—”
“Even better.” Taylor nodded. “That means the business doesn’t depend on you alone. I suggest you do a little delegating.” He shrugged. “Or stay in town and work. The choice is yours. As for Zach, I think some time with his father is just the ticket.”
“Lucas!” Tyne whispered furiously. “Don’t do this. Don’t you dare take Zach—”
“It’s done,” Taylor stated. He looked over at the court clerk. “I grant Lucas Hawk custody of Zach Whitlock for thirty days.”
“You can’t do that!”
“Oh, but I can, Ms. Whitlock,” the judge said. “The good state of Pennsylvania has granted me that privilege. Mr. Hawk, please utilize the time to do what you can for your son.”
“I will, Your Honor. Thank you.”
“Ms. Whitlock, Mr. Hawk, as parents of a minor who has committed a crime, you’re responsible for making full restitution to the city to have that wall painted. I strongly suggest you see to it that Zach pays off the debt himself. But that’s entirely up to you.” The judge glanced over at the clerk. “You getting all this? Good.” He looked at Zach. “We’ll reconvene in thirty days at which time I’ll make my final decision on this case.” He looked at the Assistant DA. “You have any disagreements you want to raise?”
“We’re fine with this, Your Honor,” the woman said.
Taylor narrowed his gaze at the teen. “Zachary, I strongly suggest that you use this time to do some hard thinking. What’s important to you? What do you want to do with your life? Which direction do you want to go? And most importantly, what kind of person do you want to be? You need to get yourself sorted. I’ll see you back here in one month’s time.” The judge paused a moment before asking, “Do you understand what’s happening here, Zach? I’m giving you a chance to turn things around for yourself. This is a rare occurrence in this courtroom. I need to know that you understand that this is a pivotal moment in your life. “
Zach’s gaze lowered. “Yes, sir. I got it. I mean, I understand.”
“Good. That’s it, then.” A sharp thud rang out as the judge slammed down the gavel.
CHAPTER FOUR
Lincoln Highway shot straight through southeast Pennsylvania’s lush farmland. From the backseat of Lucas’s BMW, Tyne gazed out at grassy wheat fields, tidy rows of neatly-trimmed fruit trees, and squat, windowless mushroom houses. The blasting air conditioner did little to cool her temper. Shaking Lucas until his teeth rattled loose might give her some satisfaction.
She hadn’t spoken a single word since Lucas had picked up her and Zach a little over an hour ago. A fire continued to smolder inside her. It had been sparked in that courtroom when Lucas had succeeded in turning her life upside down.
Yes, he had made his suggestion for Zach’s sake. Logic wouldn’t allow her to think otherwise. And Sandy, Chip, and Gina, her friends and partners of Easy Feasts, couldn’t have been more supportive or cooperative about her needing time off to sort out her son’s problems. It would make for longer work days for a few weeks, but they were good people who knew Tyne would, in an instant, do the same thing for them. Even Rob, who rarely voiced an opinion about her son, had admitted that Lucas’s plan might be just what Zach needed. But that was classic Rob, always going with the flow, taking the path of least resistance.
So why was she feeling so betrayed? The reaction might not make much sense, but that’s what she felt. Betrayed. By her friends. By her fiancé. She wanted all of them to be as annoyed with Lucas as she was for forcing her to leave her home and her business.
She even felt betrayed by Zach.
Her son had been an absolute bear since that ill-te
mpered judge had exiled them for thirty days. Zach had snapped at her at every opportunity. He’d moped around the house, he’d groused whenever she’d spoken to him. He didn’t want to be on this trip any more than she did. But then this morning Lucas arrived in his sleek, silver sedan with its black leather interior and tinted windows. The car was probably worth more than what she earned in a year, maybe two. Zach had been awed, and he and Lucas had talked horsepower, torque, and acceleration speed as they stowed the suitcases in the trunk. Tyne had settled herself into the backseat, her arms folded tightly under her breasts, savoring just a smidgeon of satisfaction that her silent treatment would prove to Lucas just how she felt about his stupid plan.
But he hadn’t seemed to notice.
The three of them hadn’t even left the city limits before Lucas had plied Zach with sports talk. Lucas did most of the talking about the Eagles. But Zach was crazy for football. How many arguments had she had with him during his pre-teen years over staying up late to watch the game? The conversation became more two-sided when the subject switched to the Phillies. If only Zach could remember algebraic equations as easily as he spouted off batting stats. He became almost animated. Well, as animated as a sullen fifteen-year-old will allow himself to become, anyway, when the conversation turned to ice hockey. All that talk of power play percentages and shot on goals and shutouts became as mind-numbing as a hefty shot of Novocain to Tyne.
The fact that father and son were talking was a good thing—she exhaled loudly, cheeks puffing, bangs blowing—wasn’t it? Brooding like a four-year-old was stupider than Lucas’s stupid plan. She realized that, but she couldn’t do a damned thing about the irritation chewing her insides.
They’d passed Lancaster not long ago, so she knew they weren’t far from their destination. Wikweko, a tiny hamlet located due west of Philadelphia, was nestled in a beautiful valley between the Susquehanna River and the City of Lancaster. The Native Americans who had come together to settle Wikweko shared the fertile basin with the people of nearby Oak Mills. Tyne’s hometown.
The silence that had settled over Lucas and Zach tugged at Tyne’s attention. She glanced toward them, then saw her son dart two quick looks at his father. An odd, kinetic tension simmered inside the car.
Finally, he said, “So, um, I’m, ah, Lenape, huh?”
Her gaze clashed with Lucas’s in the rearview mirror.
“Honey,” she said to her son, leaning forward and placing her hand on his shoulder. Shifting in the seat gave her a chance to support her son, but it had also allowed her to avoid Lucas’s hard stare. “You knew your father was Native American. We talked about it.”
Zach went still. He didn’t turn around to look at her. “Yeah. We talked about it. Once. For that family genealogy project I did back in fourth grade.”
She slid back into the seat, mindful of Lucas’s gaze boring into hers in that small mirror. Tyne glanced out the window and saw the Wikweko welcome sign.
“We’re here.” Tension and anger and sheer frustration strangled her pronouncement.
“What’s it mean?” Zach asked. “Wikweko. Is this place named after someone?”
Lucas shook his head as he turned onto the community’s main street. “No, it’s from our people’s native tongue. Algonquian. It means ‘place where something ends.’ My great-grandparents and a slew of other Lenape families pooled their money and bought this land.” He made another turn. “They’d been tossed out of their homes, their land confiscated by the government, or they’d been swindled by fast-talking reps of big businesses. Things were harsh for our ancestors. I’m sure you’ve learned about that in your US history classes. A lot of people spent generations feeling lost, like drifters without a real home. They named the community Wikweko, thinking this would be the place where their wandering would end.”
“Algonquian, huh? Saa-weet.” Zach twisted in his seat to face Lucas. “You know any other words?”
Lucas lifted one shoulder. “I used to. When I was about your age, my uncle taught me some. Hello. Good-bye. Sky. Sun. Moon. The names of a few plants and animals. That kind of thing.” He looked at Zach and grinned. “Just enough to impress the girls.”
Zach snickered. Tyne forced her gaze away from Lucas’s striking profile, focusing instead on the passing scenery. She’d certainly been impressed by him all those years ago. He’d been so different from the boys she’d grown up with in Oak Mills. His swarthy skin and sharp bone structure. Those dark, penetrating eyes. His bad-boy manner. His self-assurance. His quiet yet unmistakably proud demeanor. She’d been attracted to him immediately. Tyne let her eyelids slide shut, and the past became as clear as the present.
Amëwë is what he’d called her, the soft syllables tickling across her skin when he’d whispered them close to her ear. Little bumblebee fit, he’d told her, because she’d stung him in the heart. She’d razzed him mercilessly about the corniness of it, but she remembered how she’d melted in his hands that moonless night.
The car jolted slightly when Lucas steered onto a pea stone driveway.
The familiar red brick ranch house had Tyne smiling. “We’re staying with Jasper?”
Lucas shook his head as he put the car in park and cut the engine. “Uncle Jasper doesn’t live here any more. The house is mine now. I’m going to renovate the place and use it as a rental property. As soon as I can get around to it.”
The three of them climbed out of the car and Zach looked at his father over the roof. “I have an uncle?”
“A great uncle,” Lucas corrected. They congregated near the trunk. “My father died when I was nine. Uncle Jasper moved in. Took over the mortgage, the utilities. Raised me like I was his own.”
Tyne tugged at the hem of her blouse, then smoothed her hand over her hair. “How is Jasper?”
“He’s doing okay.” Lucas shrugged vaguely. “I guess.”
Lucas opened the trunk and Zach pulled out his suitcase and backpack. “When do I get to meet him? My uncle. I mean, your uncle. My great uncle.” Zach paused after slinging the backpack over his shoulder. “Do I get to call him Uncle Jasper too?”
Tyne went utterly still. She hadn’t seen Zach smile in a long time.
“Let’s slow down a little,” Lucas said, his chin tucked tight as he unloaded the trunk. “Let’s go inside and get settled. There’s plenty of time to do everything we want to do.”
Zach turned and made his way to the front door.
She reached for her case.
“I’ve got it,” Lucas told her.
“No, thanks.” Her fingers contacted his on the handle, and his skin felt fire-hot. “I can take care of myself.” She gave a little tug and he let go.
“Suit yourself.”
“I will, thanks.” She flashed him a plastic ‘screw-you’ smile before turning and following Zach.
She shouldn’t continue this infantile behavior. Really. But she didn’t want to be here in Wikweko. Didn’t want to leave her business. Didn’t want to be forced to live under the same roof with this man for the next thirty days. Lucas would just have to understand where she was coming from. If he couldn’t…tough.
Lucas slid between Tyne and Zach to unlock the front door. As soon as he entered, he set down his own suitcase and tugged off the sheet that covered the couch. The curtains were drawn and white sheets still hid the remainder of the furniture, but a deep sense of nostalgia rolled through Tyne when she stepped into the living room. How many Saturday afternoons had she sat here watching television with Lucas? It had been a different couch, of course, but they had spent so much time together—in this room, in this house—getting to know each other, talking about their hopes and dreams.
“It won’t take me long to clean this place up,” Lucas assured them.
“We’ll help.” Tyne moved further into the room, nudging her son ahead of her. “Won’t we, Zach?”
“Sure. I guess.”
The petulance in his tone had her cutting a sideways glance of warning at him. “Of
course, we will. Lucas, tell us where to stow our bags and we can get to work.”
Lucas matched two corners of the sheet while folding it. “You take Uncle Jasper’s old room. Off the kitchen.” He motioned the way with a tip of his head.
“I remember. But that’s the big bedroom.” The suitcases were beginning to feel like lead weights in her hands.
“You take it. That way you’ll have your own bathroom. Jasper added one on. The men can share. That okay with you, Zach?”
Her son shrugged. “Got no prob.”
Lucas pointed down the hall. “You take the bedroom on the left. That was my old room. I don’t think my uncle’s changed much in there. I’ll take the one straight back. The bathroom is to the right.”
“Sweet,” Zach said, hitching his backpack further up on his shoulder and trekking down the hallway.
Tyne didn’t get it. Zach was Mr. Sunshine with Lucas and grumpy as hell with her. She thought she and her son should be sharing some solidarity. What was going on?
A couple of hours later, all the beds had been made up with fresh sheets, the dust covers had been removed from the upholstered furniture, counters and tables had been dusted, the carpet vacuumed, and a soft summer breeze fluttered the curtains of the open windows.
Tyne finished shining the stainless steel sink, rinsed and wrung the dishcloth and hung it over the faucet. Then she dried her hands and, still clutching the dishtowel, she went into the living room. Seeing Lucas and Zach sitting on the couch, she frowned.
“What’s going on?” Her son didn’t take his eyes off the bow in his hands, so she asked, “What’s that?”
Lucas chuckled. “It’s a bow, Tyne.”
Heat flushed her body. “I know what it is. What’s he doing with it?”
“He gave it to me.” Zach clutched the thick wood of the bow’s handle as he lightly fingered the taut string as if it were some sort of exotic musical instrument. There was wonder in his tone, in his gaze, in his touch.
