by Donna Fasano
Whether it was the truth in his profound remark, the tenderness in his greeting, or the moving memories of a more innocent time, Tyne couldn’t say, but unexpected tears stung her eyes.
“It’s good to see you, Jasper.” She swiped at the moisture clinging to her lashes with her fingertips when they parted. “I wasn’t sure you’d even speak to me. The way I left all those years ago. You know,” she murmured, “without saying goodbye.”
Voicing her doubts wasn’t something she was in a habit of doing. Experience had taught her that revealing her fears only left her vulnerable, but Jasper’s warmth had melted those remarks right out of her.
Her face flushed and she forged ahead. “Jasper, I, um, I’d like you to meet my son.”
Zach had been standing off to the side, waiting to be introduced, but now he moved forward. Tyne put a hand on her son’s shoulder. Having been unaware of the teen’s presence, Jasper’s expression widened with joy.
“Your son, Tyne? How wonderful.” He reached out his hand and Zach clasped it with his own.
“This is Zachary,” Tyne said. “Zach, this is Jasper Silver Hawk. Uncle Jasper.”
“I’ve been, like, wanting to meet you, like, forever.” Zach continued to shake the older man’s hand heartily. “Well, ever since I found out about you, anyways.”
Only a teen could make seventy two hours sound like a lifetime.
“Silver Hawk. I get it now,” Zach told Jasper, nodding. “The sign outside above the door.”
Tyne looked at Lucas, silently urging him to say something.
“He’s a fine looking young man, Tyne,” Jasper said. “Tall and strong.”
Lucas edged up beside Zach and clamped his hand on his son’s shoulder. “He looks like his old man, don’t you think?”
Jasper went still, and then he beamed. He hugged Zach to him and clapped Lucas on the back. He looked from Zach to Lucas to Tyne and finally pronounced, “This is good.”
Everyone was smiling and jovial, enjoying the moment, until it turned fuzzy and warm and uncomfortable. Tyne and Lucas caught one another’s eye, and their smiles slipped. In unison, they inched backward, stepping out of the cozy family circle.
“Did you carve the eagle?” Zach asked Jasper, seemingly oblivious to his parents’ uneasiness.
“I did.”
“It’s, like, amazing.”
Tyne followed her son and Jasper to the window to admire the sculpture and stood long enough to learn that the carving was made from the trunk of a black walnut tree that had been felled by a lightning strike, that a chisel and mallet had been the tools of choice and that it had taken months for the figure to take form. Lucas kept himself separate, studying the paintings displayed on the far wall of the shop.
The bold colors used in the landscapes were at the same time jarring and intriguing, teasing the observer into a closer look. And Tyne fell victim.
One painting in particular, with its orange sunset and sienna trees, drew her. “It’s beautiful,” she murmured to Lucas. “They’re all beautiful. Really unique, you know?” She didn’t expect an answer. “I remember when we were teens that Jasper painted, but I never realized he had such talent.”
“Neither did I,” Lucas said quietly.
“Guess we didn’t pay enough attention.”
He lifted one shoulder. “Guess not.”
They stood for several long moments looking at each other, and then they focused their attention on the art. Every time she even considered talking to him she hit this solid stone wall. She didn’t know if she’d built it or if he had. Oh, hell. She ought to be mature enough to admit the truth.
For the past sixteen years she’d done all she could to foster her independence. Knowing that she’d pretty much made her own way over the years and had raised Zach by herself offered her a deep sense of satisfaction. She’d thought she’d risen above the past. Thought it could no longer affect her. But every time she looked at Lucas, every time she tried to communicate with him, she was reminded of the stark truth.
The unhappy adolescent she had once been continued to haunt her. The passionate teenager who had surrendered herself—mind and body, heart and soul—to Lucas still lived deep inside. The young woman who had been forced to leave town in disgrace was coming out of hiding. She thought she’d dealt with all the hurts, bandaged all the wounds that had been inflicted on her so many years ago. But merely being in Lucas’s presence forced her to see that, beneath the makeshift dressings, she was still raw and aching. Bitter. And furious.
“Zach and I will be right back.”
Tyne and Lucas turned at the sound of Jasper’s voice.
Jasper stood with Zach at the threshold of the hallway that led to the back of the shop.
“We’re going upstairs for some goldenseal salve,” Jasper said. “For Zach’s blisters.”
Lucas straightened. “I found the bow you made for me at the house.”
Jasper nodded.
“I heard that you used to win the archery competition at every pow-wow,” Zach said to Jasper. “Will you shoot with us one day while we’re here?”
“I am out of practice.” The elderly man directed his keen black gaze at Lucas. “There haven’t been archery competitions for years.”
“What?” Lucas’s head tilted the tiniest bit. “But why?”
Jasper lifted one hand, palm out, fingers splayed. “Lack of interest.” He glanced at Zach. “Come with me. I want to put some salve on those fingers so they don’t get infected.”
The two of them disappeared down the hall.
“Hold on just one darn second here,” Tyne said. “Just a few minutes ago you were bragging to me about how Wikweko has grown. ‘We have our own post office,’ you said. ‘We have a newspaper.’ We.” She emphasized the pronoun with a small, derisive wobble of her head. “You talked like you share some kind of kindred spirit with these people, this community. But it sounds like you haven’t been back, Lucas. How long has it been? You haven’t even come home for pow-wows? That’s a big deal to the people here. I know it is.”
She waited for him to answer, and when he didn’t, she let loose a sharp sigh. “Admit it. You share about as much spirit with Wikweko as I do.”
“I care enough to subscribe to the paper.” He leaned his hip against a display case. “So I can read up on what’s happening. I don’t think you have any right to give me grief. Your son didn’t even know you were born and raised here.”
She chose to ignore that comment completely. “Why haven’t you been back, Lucas? You and Jasper were as close as father and son. What happened?”
He studied her face for a moment. Finally, he said. “Nothing happened, Tyne.”
Sunlight drilled through the window behind her, heating the spot directly between her shoulder blades. “I don’t believe that. I saw the two of you together. Awkward doesn’t begin to describe what I saw when the two of you greeted each other.”
He shook his head. “Look, it’s nothing, okay? My job comes with a great deal of responsibility. It’s hard for me to leave Philadelphia. As soon as Uncle Jasper and I spend a little time together our relationship will smooth out.”
Tyne stood there frowning at him. He’d missed holidays with his uncle. Lots of them. Years’ worth of them from the sound of it. He hadn’t been to pow-wow. Those gatherings were sacred to the Lenape of Wikweko.
As a teen, she’d been fascinated by the rituals, the legends passed on to the younger generations, the large, smoky bonfire, the delicious food, the games of skill, the camaraderie. Lucas had taken her to several of the celebrations while they were dating, and people had come from all over the country, some of them traveling thousands of miles, to attend. Tyne couldn’t fathom Lucas missing even one of these very special events. Especially when he lived less than two hours away.
“Lucas—”
“Give it a rest, Tyne. Everything will be fine between me and my uncle. You’ll see.” He stalked away from her, crossed the small gallery, and wi
th his back to her, stood gazing at the magnificent eagle.
• • •
“Does Uncle Jasper know why we’re here?” Zach looked over at Lucas from the front passenger seat of the car, then he darted a quick glance at Tyne in the back seat.
“I haven’t said anything to anyone,” Lucas said. “So I don’t know how he could. Why do you ask?”
Zach shrugged. “I dunno. He made me feel a little—” again he shrugged “—self-conscious, I guess. When he was showing me his studio, which is pretty amazing, by the way, he said he spends the whole winter carving and then spends the summer selling his stuff.” Zach shoved his hair back off his forehead. “Anyway, he told me that my grandfather would have been proud of me. He mentioned that my grandfather was an honorable man. He used that word twice. Honorable.” He glanced out the window and his voice went soft as he added, “Made me feel…I don’t know, kinda weird. Like maybe he was pointing out that he thinks that I’m not…or something.” He looked over at Lucas. “Without actually sayin’ it, I mean.”
Tyne curled her fingers around the strap of the seatbelt to keep from reaching out to her son.
“If there’s one thing about my uncle I do know,” Lucas told him, “it’s that he says what he means and means what he says.”
They had spent another forty minutes at the shop before customers came in and began wanting Jasper’s attention so they felt they should leave.
“I don’t believe Jasper knows anything about the trouble you’re in.” Tyne leaned forward. “How could he? We’re the only ones here who know about it and we haven’t said a word to anyone.” When Zach didn’t pay her any heed she reclined against the seat again to watch the passing scenery.
“Honorable is a word Uncle Jasper always uses whenever he talks about my father.” Lucas shifted his hands on the steering wheel. “I think he wants my dad to be remembered with respect and admiration.” He glanced over at Zach and then back at the road. “I can remember many, many—” he repeated the word with a chuckle “—times when my uncle explained the importance of honor to me. He felt that a man could have many things—wealth, prominence in the community, intelligence, what have you—but if he had no integrity, he had nothing worth having.”
“Is that a Lenape thing? A culture thing?” Zach asked. “To lecture on honor?”
“Well, I guess you could say that, but…” Lucas shook his head. “There’s not a single race of people I know of that would want their sons and daughters to grow up to become liars and thieves.”
The comment made Tyne smile. “That’s true enough.”
“Speaking of culture,” Zach said to Lucas, “Uncle Jasper invited me to the Community Center tomorrow night. He said the kids go to meetings every week and learn about the past. Uncle Jasper goes. And other members of the Council of Elders. He said they tell stories, true stories from history, and some folklore too. They teach the kids about the old ways, he said. How to make a rabbit trap, or how to churn butter, or grind corn, that kind of thing. He said this week they’ll have a bonfire. That they’ll teach the kids a special tribal dance.” He reached up and scratched the back of his neck. “I told him I don’t have the moves and ended up having to explain what that meant. That I dance like I have two huge left feet. He said I could learn to drum some of the rhythms. You think I could go?”
Lucas looked at Tyne in the rearview mirror. She nodded.
“Of course,” Lucas said. “I think that’s a good idea. You’ll have fun and meet some other kids from the community.” He grinned. “And you might learn something too.”
Zach dipped his chin and shook his head. “I’m not dancing, that’s for sure.”
When he looked at Lucas again, his expression was serious. “Could we not tell him?” he asked. “You know, about why we’re here?”
Tyne didn’t wait for Lucas to answer. “It wouldn’t be right to tell any blatant lies, son.”
“Yeah, I guess.” Zach’s tone sounded defeated. Then he swallowed and squared his shoulders. “But if nobody asks, we don’t have to offer, right?”
For the beat of several seconds all that could be heard was the whirr of the air conditioner.
Softly, Lucas said, “We don’t have to offer. But unfortunately they aren’t called skeletons in a closet for nothing. Secrets have a way of showing their bones.”
CHAPTER SIX
Lucas crossed the lawn with two chilled beers in hand, heading for the picnic table where Tyne sat with her back to him. The small sliver of crescent moon hung too high in the night sky to offer much light, forcing him to make his way slowly across the cool grass.
He missed the reserved, almost bashful girl he remembered Tyne to be back when they’d been a couple. He’d had to work hard—coaxing and encouraging her—to get her to voice an opinion about whatever subject came up between them. Her self-consciousness had attracted him, made him want to draw her out. The memory made him smile in the darkness and pine for the innocents they’d been back then.
However, the confident, out-spoken woman she’d become thoroughly intrigued him. The interest she stirred in him is what had driven him to leave the documentary he’d been watching and seek her out, even though he knew full well that their encounter would probably end up in an argument. She’d developed self-assurance in the years since they had parted, but she’d also grown prickly as hell.
He gave a polite cough to let her know he was approaching, and when she turned, he offered a grin. “Hey, there. You up for a cold one?”
“Thanks.” She took the bottle from him and turned back to face the table when he straddled the bench. “I thought it would cool off a little when the sun went down.”
“Zach complained about the heat, so I closed the windows and turned on the air. I hope you don’t mind.”
She shook her head. “Not at all. We’ll all sleep better if it’s cooler inside.” She lifted her gaze upward. “Would you get a load of that sky?”
Stars glittered and winked like gems against the inky backdrop. “As Zach would say…sah-weet.”
Tyne laughed at his spot-on imitation.
“You okay?” he asked. “You’ve been out here a long time by yourself.”
She lifted the bottle to her lips and then cradled it between laced fingers. “Believe it or not I’ve been watching the fireflies. When I was a girl, I used to go outside on hot summer nights and catch as many as I could in a jar. I would sit on the grass and watch them for hours.”
“I caught them too. In an old mason jar. I used to set them on my bedside table and they’d glow all night long.” He grinned. “Uncle Jasper made me let them go in the morning.”
Her mouth cocked to one side. “I wasn’t allowed to bring them inside.”
Remembering her parents, he chuckled. “No doubt.” He took a couple swallows of the cold beer, then said, “So what has you reminiscing about bugs?” She continued to stare at the glowing insects hovering and darting in the yard, and he couldn’t figure out if she hadn’t heard him or if she simply intended to ignore the question. Feeling the need to say something, he murmured, “Every kid catches fireflies.”
Tyne shook her head. “Nope,” she said quietly. “Not every kid.” She avoided his gaze. “Listen to those peepers out there. A couple of times tonight that sound became deafening. I’ve heard them every night since we arrived. I’d forgotten what it was like to fall asleep to the sound of tree frogs.” Then she glanced at him. “Do you know there are no tree frogs in the city? Oh, maybe along Kelly Drive out near the reservoir, or in Washington Square. But I don’t live near any of the parks or wooded areas. And I can’t ever remember seeing a firefly in the postage-stamp piece of grass I call a yard.”
She went quiet.
“What’s all this about, Tyne?”
Still, she didn’t look at him. “Just thinking.”
He didn’t respond, figuring she’d elaborate in her own good time. Or not. Pressing her would only lead to trouble.
She pick
ed up the bottle took a long drink, and then set it back down on the table. “I’ve been trying to figure out where I went wrong. Was it that I raised Zach in the City? Could I have avoided all this—spray paint, police stations, court appearances, that god-awful dressing down by the judge—if I had brought him back home and raised him here?”
“Tyne, people live and raise their kids where they can find work. You’ve made a success of yourself living in Philly.”
She muttered, “To my son’s detriment.”
“Don’t be so hard on yourself.”
She seemed stone deaf to his advice.
“Did he get into this trouble because I fed him too much sugar as a child? Or because I wasn’t watching close enough when he was three and he stuck a bobby pin in that electric outlet? Or because I tried to do it all on my own? Because I left him with sitters? Because I put him in day-care too early?”
Her large and beseeching eyes tore at his heart.
“Tyne, Zach is a good kid. You’ve done a good job. Okay, so he got into a little trouble. In the grand scheme of things, spray painting graffiti isn’t all that serious. We’ll get through this.”
Her breath left her in a rush and she turned to stare off at the horizon.
“You did the best you could. No one can ask more of you than that. I’m confident that you fed him right, took him to the doctor when he was sick, made sure he was inoculated against all manner of disease, made him do his homework. And I’m sure you only left him with people you trusted.” He couldn’t stop his grin. “Did he really stick a bobby pin in an outlet?”
She nodded miserably.
He wanted to laugh, but didn’t. “Lots of teens go through a rebellious period. I know I did. This trouble Zach’s in has nothing to do with where you chose to live, or that you’re a single mom, or that he might have eaten one too many donuts.”
She planted her elbow on the table, pressed her fist to her mouth.
“He probably would have experienced this defiant stage no matter where you raised him.” Lucas rolled the bottom of the bottle against the wood of the tabletop, the foamy beer sloshing against the inside of the glass. “We can’t even say that things would be different had I been in the picture from the beginning.”
