by Donna Fasano
She rubbed her fingers against her temple. “Every mother wants a perfect family for her child.”
“There’s no such thing as a perfect family, Tyne. Every person—every parent—has quirks. No one is faultless. No family is perfectly ideal.”
“But maybe if he’d had—”
“Stop.” He paused and spoke her name, and then he waited several long seconds for her to look at him. “You grew up in the supposedly-perfect, nuclear family. One dad. One mom. One daughter.”
“Big house,” she took up the litany, “big yard, and more things than any one little girl ever needed.” She scooted her bottom against the bench. “And I was utterly miserable.”
Lucas left the bottle next to hers so he could lift his leg over the bench to sit closer to her. “I never even met my mother. And my father died when I was really young. I don’t remember a whole lot about him. But I still remember my childhood as being very happy. I’d put my uncle up against any mom and dad team out there.”
Her mouth twisted wryly. “You were lucky.”
The scent of wild roses drifted on the slight evening breeze.
His elbows on the table, Lucas laced his fingers and rested his chin on them. “It’s not about who raises kids, Tyne. I mean, not that I know all that much about it. But logic tells me that what’s more important is that the raising is done with love.”
He knew in the light of day her eyes were a deep, clear blue, but the night turned them navy. Self-doubt shadowed them with vulnerability.
“It’s obvious that you love Zach, Tyne. It’s been impossible for me not to see it.” He pressed his lips together, realizing he owed her an apology. “I regret questioning your parenting skills in front of the judge. I shouldn’t have done that. And I’m truly sorry.”
The tension in her expression eased and at last she offered him the smallest of smiles. “Thanks, Lucas. That means a lot. A whole lot.” Instantly, the corners of her mouth turned down. “I’ve spent hours and hours trying to figure out where I’ve gone wrong. I don’t think I’ve been the best mother. It’s worrisome, you know?” She sighed. “I always thought I was on the ball with this parenting thing. I always thought I knew my son, and that I was sharp and quick in all the ways that mattered when you’re raising a child. But I just recognized over the past few days that I’m not all that sharp. And I’m certainly not quick. There have been things going on that I didn’t even know about.”
He lowered his hands into his lap and leaned forward enough so that he could see her face.
Her head tilted and her gaze connected with his. “I’ve just discovered that Zach is angry with me. He’s spitting mad, Lucas. And I haven’t a clue how long he’s felt this way.” She tucked a strand of her long hair behind her ear. “What’s worse is I have no idea why the hell he’s so mad.”
She closed her eyes, her anguish unmistakable. Lucas didn’t know what to do, what to say.
“Talk about being disillusioned.” Her laughter was spiky and sardonic. “I’ve been be-bopping along, as sanctimonious as anybody can be, thinking none of this is my fault. That I’d given him all I could. Offered him all I had. And now I’m realizing that my son has been trying to communicate—” she shook her head “—something. His frustrations, maybe? Some need I didn’t know about? I don’t know. But I completely missed the boat. I didn’t see it. I wasn’t aware. I think he’s angry that I haven’t been there for him. That’s got to be why he’s snapping and snarling at me one minute and then ignoring me the next. He still wasn’t getting my attention, so he went out and found a way to really wake me up. God, Lucas, I’m to blame for all of this.”
“No one person is to blame, Tyne,” he assured her. He was about the say more, but she turned her whole body to face him suddenly.
“Has he said anything? While the two of you have been out shooting and hiking, has he talked about how he’s feeling?” She gave a small frustrated shake of her head and her corn-silk hair rustled around her shoulders, radiant. “About me? About his life?”
Lucas shook his head. “Not really. We’ve spent a little of our time talking, getting to know one another. He told me a little about school. Some of his teachers. He’s mentioned a couple of friends, what he likes to do, places he likes to hang out, that kind of thing. I’ve told him stories from my childhood, mostly. What it was like growing up here. He seemed really interested, and I just thought that was because my teen years were so different from his.” He lifted one shoulder, one hand. “We’re in the beginning stages of this thing. Zach and I need time to build up a little trust.” She looked disappointed and he slid his fingers over her forearm. “Hey, that’s what this month is for, Tyne. Smoothing out the ruffles. Figuring out the problems and finding some answers. We don’t have to solve everything in the first week, you know?”
The stiffness in her narrow shoulders relaxed and she took a deep breath. She picked up her bottle of beer and held the cool glass first to her cheek, then to her forehead. Then she took a sip.
“Maybe you should spend some time alone with him,” Lucas suggested. “Just the two of you. Take him for a drive. Or a long walk. Ask him if he’s got any questions. Open yourself up to him. You can’t find out what he’s thinking if you don’t talk to him.”
Her head bobbed as she considered his suggestion. “You’re probably right.” She nodded again, this time more firmly. “I’m sure you are, actually. I think I’ll make some plans for tomorrow. Maybe we could have lunch at the diner and then take a drive somewhere. Maybe the mall in Lancaster, or something. I’ll have to think about it.”
The silence that settled between them wasn’t the least bit awkward, which amazed Lucas. He watched the fireflies, listened to the peepers, dug his bare toes into the grass. Maybe they were all making strides where relationships were concerned.
“Lucas—”
She leaned her forearm against the corner of the table and turned her head, her long hair spilling over her lowered shoulder. He felt the urge to reach out and touch it. To see if it was as silky as he’d remembered. But he resisted.
“—what happened to your mother? I don’t remember us talking about her.”
“I don’t know any details, really. I was never encouraged to talk about her.” He reached for his bottle of beer only to realize it was empty. He set it back down. “I vaguely remember when I was very young—I can’t even say what age I was—someone told me she’d died when I was born.”
Tyne nodded, then she went still. Suddenly, her back straightened. “But she’s not in the cemetery?”
Her pointed question startled him.
“When we took tokens to your father,” she continued, “we never visited your mother’s grave.”
When Lucas had been a young man, his feelings for Tyne had taken on a whole new dimension when she’d agreed to visit the community cemetery with him to honor his father. She’d been amazed at the practice of leaving gifts to show respect and adulation for those who had passed on. During her first of many visits there, Tyne had spoken in hushed tones as she’d pointed out the small, weather-worn stuffed animals and the jewelry sitting on top of headstones, the cards and letters wedged into crevices, even money, bills faded and stiff with age weighted down with smooth river rocks on the grassy mounds. She’d been amazed that the graveyard hadn’t been ransacked and Lucas had explained that no one would dare touch the sacred favors that people had left for their loved ones.
“If we did, I sure don’t remember it. And I’m sure I would.”
“You’re right. We never visited her grave.” Lucas felt funny, light-headed, as if he had the alcohol content of four beers racing through his veins rather than just the one. “Because she’s not buried in the cemetery.”
Tyne’s unfinished beer sat on the table, forgotten. “So, where is she? Do you know?” Her delicate brows arched high. “Haven’t you ever asked?”
If he hadn’t become so rattled by the unexpected change in the topic of the conversation, her questions w
ould have brought a smile to his face. When they were teens, she would never have questioned him, would never have confronted him in such a bold manner. He studied her face, realizing what a stunningly beautiful woman she’d become.
“No,” he finally admitted, his voice coming out sounding dry and grating. “I’ve never asked.”
“Well, Lucas, don’t you think you should?”
CHAPTER SEVEN
As it turned out, Tyne wasn’t able to spend Wednesday afternoon with Zach. Jasper had shown up unexpectedly and asked her son to help him get ready for the youth meeting set for that evening at the Community Center. Caught up in the excitement of new people and places, Zach had been only too eager to become better acquainted with his great uncle, and Tyne hadn’t the heart to deny either of them some time together.
Zach had arrived home after the meeting last night full of excitement about all he’d learned. He’d met half a dozen kids his age, and he held his head a tiny bit higher when he’d told them how Jasper had complimented him on his sense of rhythm. Apparently, her son was adept at playing the water drum. Gourds, dried in the sun until their seeds rattled, were also used as musical instruments. Tyne had been surprised—shocked, actually—to hear that Zach had been enticed to also try learning a dance step or two.
Even this morning, as they sat around the kitchen table, Tyne and Lucas sipping coffee, Zach continued to recount his experiences between bites of crunchy breakfast cereal.
“I’m glad you had a good time,” Lucas told him.
Zach nodded. “I can’t wait until next week. Alice Johnson is going to teach us to make fry bread.”
Tyne placed her palm under her cup, the ceramic warm against her skin. “I didn’t know you were interested in cooking.”
Her son swallowed a bite of cereal and scooped up another spoonful. A fat drop of milk hung on his bottom lip and he swiped it away with the back of his hand. “It’s not the cooking I’m, like, interested in really. It’s finding out, like, what kind of food my people like to eat.” His gaze darted to Lucas. “It’s okay to call them ‘my people,’ right?”
A smile flitted across Lucas’s mouth. “Of course. You’re part of the Lenape family.”
“Some of the kids talked about getting together this weekend,” Zach continued easily. “Maybe play some ball or something.”
“You’re making new friends.” Tyne set her coffee on the table. “That’s great, Zach.” She went to the refrigerator and pulled out a carton of orange juice. “Listen, how about we spend the day together?”
Her son looked at Lucas. “Sure. What are we going to do?”
“No, not all of us, son,” Tyne gently clarified. “Just us. You and me. Lucas said we can borrow his car.”
Gray clouds seemed to roll in as Zach stopped, frowned, and stared down into his bowl of milky flakes. “I dunno.”
Before he could outright refuse, she smiled brightly. “I’ll take you anywhere you want to go. There’s a mall in Lancaster. I’ll buy you a new t-shirt. Or I’ll take you to a movie. Maybe we could find a comic book shop. Music store. You name it.”
He toyed with his spoon the whole time she talked, glancing up at her through hooded eyes, then just as quickly looking down again. “My shirts are fine. Don’t really need anything.”
“Oh, come on, Zach.” The pleading she heard in her tone annoyed her. She’d never thought she’d have to beg her kid to spend some time with her. “We’ll have fun.”
Zach’s gaze narrowed on her. “We can go anywhere? You mean it?”
She nodded emphatically. “Like I said, you name the place.”
The last thing she wanted to do was have her nerves frayed to ribbons by two hours spent sitting through a loud, space-age movie that would surely bring on a headache, but if it meant she could have some alone time with Zach before and afterward, she’d just have to take two aspirin and suck it up.
“I want to see the high school where you guys, like, met. Where did you say it was? Broken Mills or something?”
“Oak Mills,” Lucas supplied.
Tyne couldn’t have been more stunned had Zach tossed his bowl into the air and splashed milk onto the ceiling.
Zach focused his attention on Lucas. “Didn’t you say that’s where Mom grew up?”
Lucas nodded slowly.
Zach nodded too, looking up at Tyne. “That’s where I’d like to go.”
Feeling as if all the blood had drained from her face, Tyne struggled to find words to express the thoughts zipping through her head. She took a moment, turning and setting the carton she held onto the Formica countertop. Then she opened a cabinet and took down a glass with deliberation. Orange juice gushed from the container into the glass, making a small mess, which she ignored. She picked up the glass and turned back to her son.
“Are you really sure that’s what you want to do? There’s really nothing to do in Oak Mills. I hadn’t planned on going there.”
Lancaster, in fact, was located in the opposite direction from her home town.
The storm clouds returned, this time complete with flashing lightning and rolling thunder.
“See?” Zach shoved his way up from the table, his chair grating against the linoleum. “I knew you didn’t mean it. It’s just like always. You only want me to do what you want me to do.” He stalked toward the kitchen door. “It doesn’t matter what I want. You don’t care what I want.”
“Zach!”
“Zach.”
Tyne and Lucas spoke in unison.
“Hold up.” The light tone of Lucas’s voice belied the sudden tension in his jaw, and when Zach stopped and begrudgingly turned back to face them, he said, “Can we just take a deep breath? Can we talk about this rather than shouting?”
“There’s nothin’ to talk about.” Zach’s shoulders were hunched, his fists clenched. “It’s her way or no way. Don’t you see that? That’s how it always is.”
Tyne tried to remain calm. “That’s not true.”
“It is! It is so true.”
Her son was being a little snot, and she was just on the verge of pointing that out. She blinked a couple of times as it dawned on her; he was pushing her buttons as hard as he could push. Intentionally. If they ended up in a fight, he wouldn’t have to go anywhere with her.
Going to the high school where she and Lucas had first met certainly wasn’t on her ‘top ten list’ of things to do. She couldn’t imagine it even making her ‘top one hundred.’ Dealing with those memories would only lead to emotional upheaval. And tears, and crying, and…useless, emotional…crap. Who the hell needed that? But if going to the school meant she could spend the day with her son, she’d do it.
She found the calm she’d been striving for. “Zach, if you want to go see Oak Mills High, then we’ll go see Oak Mills High. I’ll show you the football field where Lucas was a running back, and the track where I sprinted a fifty yard dash against the fastest girl on the team.”
Zach seemed to turn down his contempt a notch or two. “The fastest girl on the team? You lost?”
Tyne grinned, shaking her head. “I won. Well…I won against her once.” She chuckled. “And that girl was full of lame excuses, let me tell you; I jumped the gun, her shoe wasn’t laced tight enough, she had dirt stuck in her cleats. She was a regular Tonya Harding, that one.”
The tension in her son’s gangly body melted a little. “Sore loser, huh?”
“You’ve got that right,” Lucas said, his coffee cup poised close to his mouth. “Victoria Davis got her butt whipped, fair and square.” Lucas grinned at Tyne, his voice softening. “I can remember that like it was yesterday.”
She remembered too. She’d hung back when the rest of the team had jogged toward the locker room after practice, and she and Lucas had celebrated her win with a few passionate moments behind the brick concession stand where anyone might have happened upon them. Oh, the risks they had taken when they’d been teens.
“Get yourself ready,” she told Zach. “
And we’ll go.”
Her smile faded the instant her son left the kitchen, but she didn’t speak until she’d heard his bedroom door close.
“I was telling him the truth when I said I hadn’t been planning to visit Oak Mills.” She noticed her hand wasn’t as steady as she’d have liked as she lifted the glass of orange juice to her lips. “There’s no one there I want to see.”
Questions shadowed Lucas’s dark, searching gaze, and Tyne prayed that those questions would go unasked. But evidently no one up there in heaven was listening.
“Your parents,” he probed hesitantly, “are they…”
“Alive and kicking.” She set down the glass of juice. “And still living in the same house. At least, they were this past Christmas. That’s when I last heard from them.” She slid her hand onto her hip. “And it was an official ‘Mayoral’ Christmas card. It simply would not do for the Whitlocks to give up their prominence in the community, you know.”
Keeping the bitterness from coating her voice was impossible. The deep breath she took didn’t alleviate any of her hard feelings.
Lucas scooted his chair an inch away from the table. “But if Zach doesn’t know you’re from Oak Mills, then—”
“He’s never met them. That’s right. And that’s how I hope to keep it.” She reached up and flipped her hair back behind her shoulder. “They have the address of a PO box I rent out on the Main Line. They don’t know my home address or my phone number. They don’t know where I work. I’m sure they could find us if they tried really hard, but I’ve done what I could to protect our privacy. Mine and Zach’s. For his safety.”
Zach’s bedroom door opened, his sneakers clomping down the hallway.
Lucas’s brows drew together. “His safety?”
“And his mental health,” she murmured.
