by Donna Fasano
“My uncle made it for me,” Lucas told Zach. “Along with a quiver of arrows. There are only a few arrows left, but we can buy some more.” Then he looked at Tyne. “I found them stored in the closet. I’d like Zach to have them.”
The strangest feeling welled up in Tyne. “Oh, no.” She shook her head. “No, no, no. He’s not accepting that. That’s a weapon. That could be deadly. You don’t give a fifteen-year-old a dangerous weapon.”
Lucas looked momentarily confused, but then he smiled and shook his head. Tyne thought her brain would explode from the frustration caused by his nonchalant attitude. Zach’s jaw set and his eyes grew hooded.
“Don’t be silly, Tyne.”
“It’s a gift.” Her son jutted his chin. “And I am accepting it.”
“And I said you’re not.” Tyne planted a fist on her hip.
“He has custody this month. He gets to say what I can do and what I can’t do.” Zach stared at her in an evident stand-off. But it didn’t take long before his gaze broke from hers and he set the bow next to the leather quiver. “Why do you have to ruin everything? Everything!” He stood then, and bolted for the front door.
The metal screen slammed shut, the bang sharply emphasizing the silence he left behind.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Tyne glared at Lucas.
The man sat on the sofa, cool and collected. “I’m trying to win his trust.”
“Win it? Or buy it?”
A tiny fissure cracked through Lucas’s calm. “Not only are you being unreasonable, you’re also being unfair.”
As teens, they had often debated the injustices of society, focusing mainly on close-mindedness and discrimination. Tyne was often upset by the bias Lucas suffered at the hands of teachers, coaches, and even peers, treatment that Lucas usually turned a blind eye to. Apparently, the years had helped him develop sight.
“It’s a reasonable assessment from where I’m standing.”
He cupped his knees with his palms. “Look, Tyne, the kid doesn’t know me. I’m a complete stranger.”
“The kid? That kid is my son.” Everything he said seemed to grate on her.
“Our son,” Lucas pointedly reminded her. “I have a stake in this too. I want to help him too. But you have to let me.”
“That thing is a weapon.”
He slid his hands over his thighs. “It can be. But it’s only a weapon if a person has a mind to use it that way. And a person has to know how to use it; otherwise, it’s a pretty frustrating contraption. Besides, it’s safer than the knives and guns that some of the kids his age tote around these days.”
“That’s a ridiculous argument.” Tyne rested her hand on the back of the chair, barely aware of the faint scent of pine spilling into the room on the heated breeze. “Zach has nothing to do with guns or knives.”
“I was ten when Jasper made my first bow for me. A short, stubby little thing.” He reached out and touched the wood of the bow he’d given Zach. “This one was a gift for my thirteenth birthday. It was too big for me, and my uncle knew it. He told me to pull it. That it would develop my muscles and callous my fingers. That when I could shoot it properly, I’d be a man.”
Lucas looked up at Tyne. “I pulled on that string every day, Tyne. I was nearly Zach’s age before I was strong enough to shoot with any accuracy. Uncle Jasper taught me to aim only at what I intended to shoot and to shoot where I aimed. I didn’t realize it then, but he was teaching me responsibility, self-reliance and self-confidence. Zach needs all of those things.”
“How the hell do you know what Zach needs? You’ve spent a total of four hours of your life with him.” Somewhere inside her there was a tiny seed of understanding that Lucas’s argument was logical and warranted her attention, but a thick haze of emotion choked off the perception and kept it from sprouting into anything tangible.
He stood and stepped over to look out the front door. Tyne’s shoulders squared.
“That boy is in deep trouble,” she said. “He needs to be disciplined, not rewarded with a new toy.”
“First it’s a weapon. Now it’s a toy.” Lucas shook his head derisively. Without turning to face her, he slid his hands into his pockets. “He’s not a boy, Tyne. He’s almost a man. And it seems to me that the discipline should have been started long ago.”
“Stop it. Just stop.” She slung the dishtowel over the back of the upholstered chair. “I won’t let you, or that judge, criticize my parenting. I’m a good mother, damn it. You have no idea what Zach and I have faced over the years. What I—” she poked herself in the chest “—have gotten us through. With very little help. From anyone. So I don’t want to hear another word of disapproval from you. You don’t know. You just don’t know.”
Lucas sighed as he turned to look at her. “Listen, Tyne, I don’t mean to assign blame, and the last thing I want to do is argue with you at every turn. We need to focus on the problem. Zach is in trouble and he needs our help. And we won’t be able to help him if we’re constantly at each other’s throats.”
Tyne kept her mouth shut, shifted her weight to her right foot and crossed her arms over her chest. The raw edges of her emotions refused to allow her to acknowledge that the man had made a valid point or two. Her silence would have to suffice.
“I get it, okay?” he continued. “I get that you’re angry. You’re angry that you’re here. You’re angry about the past. I get it.” He lifted one hand and rubbed the back of his neck. “For what it’s worth, I’m not so sure coming here was the best solution. But this is where we’re at. This is what we’ve got. We have to make it work. We have to make it work together, you and I. For Zach.
“And about the past—” he lifted both hands, palms up, then let them fall to his sides “—I’ve got so many questions, I don’t even know where to begin. But I know asking them will only lead to more arguments, more blame, more anger. I think the best thing for us to do is focus on the problem. For now, at least.” He glanced out the door, then back at Tyne, murmuring, “Let’s just focus on the problem.”
He moved back to the couch and picked up the bow. “I want him to have this, Tyne. If you say not now, then that’s how it’ll have to be. But I want you to know I’ll just wait until he’s eighteen and give it to him then.” Lucas set the bow down again. “It’s perfectly safe, you know. And I’d be with him. I’d teach him to use it. Properly. We need something, Tyne. He and I. Something to help us connect. Some reason to be together. So we can talk. So we can get to know one another.” Again, he sighed. “I hope you’ll change your mind.”
For long seconds she remained silent, her jaw clenched until it ached. Finally, she murmured, “Okay.”
He shook his head, confused. “Okay what? Okay, we shouldn’t fight? Okay, we need to work together? Okay, Zach can have the bow? What?”
She swallowed hard. “Okay to everything.” She snatched up the dishtowel. “But I don’t like it, Lucas. Any of it. Not one bit. I want you to know that. I want you to know exactly how I feel.” She looked down to see that she’d stretched the towel taut. “We do have to work with what we’ve got. But I damn well don’t have to like it.”
Tyne turned, stalked straight through the kitchen, down the short hall to the bedroom and shut the door.
• • •
After stripping down to her panties and bra, Tyne sprawled out on the bed. Maybe a nap would help cool her anger. Everything she’d said to Lucas had been the truth. She had struggled as a single parent, and no one could understand the pitfalls she’d experienced. The situation that forced all of them into this damned exile galled her to the core. Her heart ached for Zach, yet at the same time, she hated that she felt disappointed in him, hated that his mistake shined a bad light on her mothering skills. She wished she didn’t have to be here, didn’t have to deal with this mess. But she probably shouldn’t have lashed out at Lucas about it. As angry as she was, logic and reason told her he was only trying to help Zach. Why couldn’t she give him a littl
e credit for that?
She rolled over onto her back, splayed her hands on her stomach, and stared at the ceiling. As her breathing became more measured, her shoulders relaxed, and her eyelids fluttered shut. Her thoughts drifted to the past, as if she were transported by some plush and magical carpet.
The first time she and Lucas spent the night together, they packed sleeping blankets, sandwiches, fresh fruit, and water, and they slipped off into the woods together on a moonless summer night. She had lied to her parents—blatantly and boldly—and she hadn’t been bothered by a single twinge of guilt for doing it. Even now, she grinned at the monumental audacity she’d exhibited back then when it came to finding ways to be with Lucas.
His ability to build a fire, construct a lean-to for shelter, and, yes, speak the soft syllables that made up the words of his native tongue had impressed her. But she’d been so utterly in lust with him at the time, she’d have agreed to spend the night with him at the complete mercy of the elements during a monsoon.
“It’s so dark,” she complained, right after a screech owl had let out a heart-stopping shriek. She snuggled up against him, and he chuckled at her fear. Then he assured her there was nothing in the woods that would harm them.
“I chose the night of the New moon for a good reason,” he told her. “Less chance of us being seen.” Then he slid his arm around her shoulders. “And it’s also a night when the stars really put on a show.”
They were miles away from street lamps and house lights, far from town and neighborhoods. The sky was an inky dome, a perfect backdrop for the stars that glittered like gem chips, sapphires, rubies, emeralds, and, of course, a multitude of diamonds.
Their kisses and caresses had been innocent, at first, but when their breathing became labored, they had peeled off their clothes with no inhibitions. Lying naked in his arms beneath the dazzling stars had Tyne experiencing a freedom like she’d never felt in her life.
His golden brown skin rippled with muscle, his hands and lips on her body ignited powerful urges in her. His breath was soft against her cheek as he hovered over her.
“I can see the stars shining in your eyes,” he whispered. “And you’re more beautiful than a whole universe of stars.”
She marveled at how comfortable he seemed voicing those kinds of opinions, compliments that could almost be poetic. It was curl-your-toes romantic.
He stroked his fingertips down her neck and chest, over her breast, and then he lowered his head and took the dark peak into his mouth. She’d gasped at the deliciousness of it, and it seemed like the most natural thing in the world to lift her hips and press herself against him.
When he entered her that first time, the pain made her eyes go wide. He’d apologized, hugged her, kissed her, and soon, she was panting and writhing beneath him.
Their first time had ended a bit awkwardly, with both of them feeling unsure where to focus their gazes or rest their hands, but they fixed that by practicing for two full days. And even though they’d been young and inexperienced when they’d walked into those woods, they’d been quick to learn at least some of the erogenous secrets the other held. Over the course of that long, lazy weekend, they made slow, sensuous love, and swift, sweaty love, and every other type of love they could think of to make.
Screwing hadn’t been their only pastime. They’d walked through the lush forest, they’d fished in a nearby stream. Lucas had laughed when Tyne squealed over having caught a fish. He’d cleaned it, and she’d done her best to cook it, and he’d pronounced it the most delicious fillet on a stick he’d ever eaten; she agreed.
They’d celebrated by getting naked and playing in the knee-high creek. When she saw the leech that attached itself to her calf, she’d screamed and run. Lucas had to catch her, and then he told her to sit tight. He’d gone to the fire, deftly lit the end of a thin twig, and then blew out the flame. One careful touch of the glowing ember had the slimy creature releasing its hold and dropping to the ground. Lucas cleaned the blood from her leg and kissed away her tears, and then they made love right there on the mossy bank.
That’s when he’d called her Amëwë for the very first time. That’s the moment he’d told her he loved her; he’d spoken the words with such intensity, Tyne had difficulty holding his gaze. Her eyes welled with tears and she’d been sure the very fabric of her heart would rip apart from the immense emotion swelling there.
Tyne blinked several times and shoved herself up from the mattress, the ache in her heart keeping steady time with the heavy throb between her legs. Damn it. Looked like a nap wasn’t on the agenda, after all. Maybe what she needed was a cool shower. No maybe about it.
She reached for her robe and headed for the door.
CHAPTER FIVE
Wikweko’s Artists’ Alley consisted of a winding, brick walkway that ran a full block between Main Street and Water Street. Signs clearly marked the Alley at both ends, Lucas told Zach and Tyne, for the growing tourist trade. The three of them entered town on Main Street and swung around the block to park in the lot located on Water Street, so they were able to view the quaint lane of galleries from one end then the other.
Zach sucked in his breath as he opened the car door. “Yowch,” he grumbled, gently shaking his right hand.
“Those blisters will callous over in no time,” Lucas assured him.
Tyne shut her door and lifted her face to the bright summer sunshine. For three afternoons she’d been left to her own devices while Zach and Lucas had disappeared with a packed lunch, a jug of water, and the bow. Tyne wasn’t sure where they’d gone each day, but they returned home in time to eat the dinner she prepared. They must have done a lot of hiking because Zach seemed too tired to talk much in the evenings. Which meant he was also too tired to argue with or snap at her.
She couldn’t remember the last time she’d sat outside and read a book. Already, the sun had tinged her skin golden and she felt well rested.
Several times since arriving in Wikweko, Tyne had overheard Zach ask Lucas when they could visit Jasper. Each time, Lucas had either put him off or diverted Zach’s attention to another topic. This morning, both Lucas and Zach had complained of sore fingertips so they’d decided to take a break from archery practice. Again, Zach had posed meeting his great uncle, and this time he refused to be sidetracked from the issue.
“The last time I was here—” Tyne looked around at the shops “—there was no such thing as Artists’ Alley. Or a tourist trade. Water Street hadn’t even been paved.”
Surprise momentarily slackened the tension on Zach’s face. “You were here before? In Wikweko?” he asked her. Tyne only had time to nod before her son turned to Lucas. “I assumed you met my mom in the city.”
“No,” Lucas answered easily. “We met here. Or rather in Oak Mills. A town a few miles down the road. That’s where your mom was born. Where we both attended high school. But we spent a lot of time here in Wikweko.”
Avoiding his mother altogether, Zach stuffed his hands into the pockets of his baggie jeans and hunched his shoulders as he quickened his step to forge ahead of them.
Lucas sidled up beside her. “A lot’s changed around here in sixteen years, don’t you think? Wikweko High School was built about five years ago. We have our own post office now. We have a weekly newspaper. And a Starbucks, if you can believe it.”
She sensed his edginess, heard the tension in his voice. He hadn’t even noticed Zach’s surly withdrawal.
“Why don’t you want to see Jasper, Lucas?”
He stopped short. “What are you talking about?”
She paused, lifting her hand to shield her eyes from the sunlight. “Zach has asked every day to meet your uncle and you put him off every time. The only reason we’re here is because neither of you can pull the string on that bow because of blisters. My guess is that you’ve been avoiding Jasper.”
“That’s ridiculous.” Lucas’s clipped gait forced Tyne to walk fast to keep up. “I don’t have any blisters. And I’m not avoid
ing anyone.”
He called out to Zach. “You’ve passed the gallery. Uncle Jasper’s place is here.” Lucas rushed forward to open the door for them.
The stylish sign hanging above the door didn’t display a name; it only portrayed a fierce-looking hawk that had been crafted from some silver-toned metal. The detail work of the animal was exquisite. A bell attached to the door tinkled when they entered, and inside, the shop was cool and still.
“Wow.” Zach breathed out the word rather than spoke it. “Look at that.” He moved to the large eagle, its wings spread wide, perched on a glass shelf in a well-lit corner. A predatory fierceness had been meticulously etched into every aspect of the bird from its glaring eyes down to its salient talons. The sculpture’s surface had been polished to a high sheen that accented the wood’s grain.
The air suddenly filled with a haunting flute melody accompanied by a single drum piped into the room over the sound system.
“I’ll be right there,” a masculine voice called from a back room.
In his mid-sixties, Jasper Silver Hawk had classic Native American features; high cheekbones, deep set eyes the color of glossy onyx, a ruddy complexion riddled with crevices etched by a lifetime spent in the sun and wind. A regal face you might see stamped onto an ancient coin.
“Lucas,” the man exclaimed. “I heard you were back in town.”
“Uncle Jasper,” Lucas greeted.
The men shook hands, and although their words were warm, their brief embrace looked awkward to Tyne as they clapped each other on the back.
“I’m sure you remember Tyne,” Lucas said to his uncle.
Jasper’s gaze fell on her, genuine affection pervading his quick smile. “Of course. How could I forget? Tyne, you’ve become a beautiful woman.”
“And you haven’t changed a bit,” she told him, stepping into his open arms.
He hugged her tightly and murmured, “The years refuse to pass without leaving their mark.” He didn’t let her go immediately, and Tyne rested her cheek on his shoulder.
