by Donna Fasano
Lucas’s smile never faltered. “The next morning he told me to jump down into the hole. Which I did, no questions asked. He told me I could have breakfast as soon as I’d climbed out, and then he walked away.”
She was quiet, her mind taken up with the idea of Zach out in the woods with Jasper…maybe standing in a hole he’d been forced to dig.
“Nearly three hours later and I was still standing there. Filthy from trying to scale the walls, frustrated as hell that I couldn’t.”
“Your tone is telling me this is a good memory,” she said, “but for the life of me, I don’t understand.”
He laughed. “Neither did I. And that was precisely the point of why I was in the hole for hours.”
She frowned.
“Little did I know, but my uncle was busy in the night. While I slept, he’d angled the sides of the hole so the opening was smaller than the base. It would have been impossible for me to climb out. It’ll be impossible for Zach to climb out too.”
“Lucas! You are not making me feel any better. Get to the good part, please.”
“I just hope he figures it out quicker than I did,” Lucas continued easily. “You see, many of those camping tasks will emphasize independence. They’re about learning self-reliance. But the hole? The hole is designed to make a man realize there are times when he can’t go it alone. He needs others.”
Tyne nestled into the seat, crossing her arms tightly over her chest. “My son’s out in the woods somewhere, digging a hole,” she muttered. Her tone lowered. “Trapped in a hole.” She heaved a sigh and shook her head. “Wonderful.”
He chuckled at her, the sound of it not at all unpleasant.
“Physical exercise is good for him, Tyne.” His voice went soft and serious. “You know it is. Shoveling dirt or carrying wood, it doesn’t matter. He’s out in the sunshine with someone whose only wish is to teach him the things he needs to know to get through life unscathed. Zach will benefit by learning to think for himself. Learning to scope things out, decipher situations, anticipate the consequences of his actions.”
She took in everything he said, her shoulder and arm muscles relaxing. Thinking about the trouble Zach had gotten himself in back in Philly, she had to agree that her son needed some practice on all of those things.
“Oh, wait. Slow down. There it is,” she said, pointing to the road sign they’d been watching for. “Jasmine Way.” She leaned forward a little as he made the turn. “Now to find the house.”
Lucas slowed the car, pulling to a stop on the wide shoulder of the road.
“I don’t know if I can do this.” Tension laced the edges of his words.
Her heart ached for him as she took in his ridged jaw and his tight grip on the steering wheel.
“That hole in the ground I told you that Uncle Jasper had me dig…” He paused long enough to swipe the back of his hand across his mouth. “It wasn’t just an opening in the dirt. It was meant to represent predicaments. Life’s difficulties. I spent hours down there, excited and determined. If my uncle told me to climb out, then there most certainly was a way for me to climb out. I just had to find it. But after a while, I was forced to look at the sides—all the sides—of the problem.” His eyes narrowed.
“Once again, I’ve focused all my energy on my own excitement. My own determination to solve the problem.” Absently, his thumb worried the leather covering of the steering wheel. “What if she’s not interested in meeting me?” he murmured. “What if she’s never given me a second thought? What if my showing up on her doorstep only causes her grief?”
She heard no self-pity, only matter-of-fact inquiry. Tyne sat motionless. When she did speak, her tone was just as soft as his. “I’m a mother, Lucas, and I can’t imagine that she hasn’t thought of you. That she hasn’t wondered. A person would have to be heartless…” She let the rest of the thought fade. He didn’t seem to be listening to her anyway.
His eyes remained riveted to a spot somewhere on the distant horizon. “What if she married someone, you know, from her own religion? What if her husband knows nothing about me? What if she has other children? And all they know is that their mother is perfect in every way? I could ruin everything for her. I could cause this woman a whole world of—” His mouth thinned and his shoulders dropped a full inch. “That’s what he meant.”
“What? Who?” A car passed by; Tyne gave it little notice.
“Uncle Jasper. He told me not to cause Ruth Yoder harm. I thought he meant I shouldn’t say anything mean to her. Or, you know, blame her.” Doubt shadowed his gaze. “But I realize now he meant so much more. Just by showing up on her doorstep, I could end up hurting her.”
The air conditioner hummed, blowing a cool draft into her face. She reached out and flicked the lever, redirecting the air upward.
“What do you want to do, Lucas?” she asked softly. “Do you want to just let this be? We could turn around and go home.”
That wasn’t the best choice, in her mind. But coercing him wouldn’t be the right thing to do.
“I meant it when I said I’d help you with this. I’ll support you in whatever you decide to do.” The instant the words left her mouth, heat flushed through her and something profound tugged in the pit of her belly. Her mouth went dry and she was relieved to find him distracted, deep in thought.
“I don’t have to introduce myself,” he said, finally. “I mean, I don’t have to go there and announce my relationship to her. I could just, well—” his gaze lifted to hers “—keep that to myself, right?”
Tyne could see how desperately he wanted to meet his mother. “Of course, you could.” She smiled lightly. “You look like your father, Lucas. No one would ever mistake you for being Amish. I can’t imagine anyone suspecting a thing. We could stop under the guise of asking for directions.” She lifted her hands, palms up. “To Wikweko. That would work. You’ve got relatives there. That’s not even a lie.”
“Directions,” he murmured. “To Wikweko.”
He nodded. The smile he offered reflected immense gratitude, and Tyne felt another tight pull deep in her stomach. She didn’t even try to analyze it—didn’t want to, really—as he steered the car back onto the winding country road.
After several more miles, she said, “There. Could that be the place?”
Lucas slowed the car.
The small, white clapboard house sat back from the road. A sturdy split-rail fence surrounded the tidy yard. A large vegetable garden thrived along the south side of the house, a woman stood among the plants, bent at the waist, pulling weeds. The old man sitting in a wheelchair on the concrete porch had Tyne nodding.
“This has to be it, Lucas.” Her heart thudded an erratic beat against her ribcage.
He pulled to a stop on the shoulder of the road, and with slow, deliberate motions, he put the car in park and shut off the engine. They both got out and met at the mailbox at the end of the narrow sidewalk near the front of the car. The woman in the garden straightened, looking at them while reaching to wipe her hands on the white apron tied around her waist. She started toward them, the skirt of her shin-length black dress brushing the thick vegetation.
Tyne stood beside Lucas, waiting for him to take that first step. The Amish woman was halfway to the gate, and still he hadn’t moved. Tyne turned to him. He looked frozen in place. It was difficult to watch such a commanding figure become overwhelmed with apprehension. She slid her hand in his, and the trembling of his chilled fingers had her whispering, “It’s okay, Lucas. This is going to be just fine. Come on.”
She took a step, giving his rigid arm a gentle tug, and he followed.
The three of them met at the gate, and when no one spoke, Tyne asked, “Ruth Yoder?”
Lucas and the woman hadn’t stopped staring at each other. The awe on Ruth Yoder’s face was answer enough, but she nodded. “I am.”
Mother and son stood, face to face, for the first time in thirty-five years, the gate standing between them an uncanny yet solid symbol o
f the emotions holding them at bay. Tyne’s breath caught as she waited to see if it would swing open wide or remain closed.
Finally, Lucas said, “I’m…I’m…” He stopped suddenly and swallowed, emotion glistening in his eyes.
The woman smiled. “I know who you are.”
The strings of her bonnet hung loose, one trailing down her chest, the other draped back over her shoulder. By no means an unattractive woman, Ruth, with her natural glow, looked much younger than the early-to-mid-fifties Tyne had calculated her age to be.
“You look so much like your father. Tall like him too.” The woman spoke softly. She gave Tyne the barest of glances, then asked Lucas, “Your wife?”
He shook his head. “I’m not married. But you have a grandson. Zach is fifteen.”
Ruth’s smile tightened and tears sprang to her hazel eyes. “I wish I could invite you in.” She turned her head as if to look toward the house. Her voice grated as she added, “But that’s impossible.”
The man on the porch called, “Ruth? Who is it?”
The transformation in the woman’s face was painful to see. Her smooth features contracted and her eyes darkened. When he didn’t receive an immediate answer, the old man barked out her name a second time.
Coming to her senses quickly, Tyne offered, “We’re here asking for directions, sir.”
“Just some lost tourists,” Ruth told him. She offered Tyne a grateful smile. “He can’t see. He went blind years ago.” Lifting her gaze to Lucas, she said, “He’s very sick.”
“I need to go inside,” the old man demanded. “Come and take me inside.”
A gentle breeze blew a tendril of Ruth’s brown hair across her face. She automatically swiped it aside and tucked it under her bonnet, smudging dirt across her forehead in the process. Tyne noticed the rich, black soil caked under the woman’s short nails, evidence of her work in the garden.
Tyne had never seen regret expressed so clearly on anyone’s face before, and her heart twisted into a painful knot.
“I should go,” Ruth told Lucas. The sad, painful smile she offered them seemed to strain her lips.
“Wait.” He reached out and placed his hand on top of hers on the gatepost in an effort to hold her there, if only for a moment longer. “Just a second.”
They stood in the open, summer sunshine raining down on them, a floral-scented breeze rustling the leaves of a nearby tree, yet Tyne felt there wasn’t air enough for her to take a breath.
“Are you happy?” he asked.
The old man chose that moment to call her name once again.
Ruth’s expression never changed. She searched Lucas’s face and finally whispered, “I’m content.” She blinked once and went very still. “I want you to know that I’ve prayed for you every day, Lucas.”
For several seconds he didn’t move, the look in his eyes intense but inscrutable. There was no way to tell if hearing his mother speak his name for the first time triggered pleasure or distress. His jaw muscle jumped, and Tyne feared he might tell her exactly what she could do with her prayers. Finally, he released her hand, reached around, pulled his wallet from his back pocket and slid out a business card. He offered it to her. She accepted the card in silence, tucking it beneath the waistband of her apron without looking at it, and after a final long glance at his face, she turned away.
Now it was Tyne being tugged along by Lucas toward the car. That couldn’t be it. That couldn’t be all they were going to say to one another. They had years to catch up on, memories to share, regrets to express.
Before she could think of a polite way to articulate her thoughts, they were in the car and driving away from the house. Tyne glanced behind her, stricken with sadness by the sight of that closed gate.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“I just don’t understand.”
Besides ordering coffee from the waitress in the café, this was the first thing Lucas had said since leaving Ruth Yoder’s house.
Tyne had tried to get him to talk, but not knowing what he was thinking or how he was feeling, she couldn’t gauge how to best be supportive. Should she compliment the woman? Rail against her? Lucas’s mother had been neither warm and welcoming, nor unreceptive. So Tyne waited for Lucas to take the lead. But he hadn’t. He’d uttered not a word. He’d just driven.
Even though the car was headed in the wrong direction, she’d kept quiet, figuring he needed time to think. After about twenty minutes or so, he’d pulled into the parking lot of the coffee shop.
“I mean,” he continued, absently swirling the spoon around in the heavy ceramic mug, “I realize religion is important to some people. But—” he tilted his head “—more important than raising your kid?”
Memories from her own past floated up to haunt her. She glanced out the window toward the parking lot.
There must be millions of different reasons why people give up their babies.
Tyne had been young and unmarried and scared when she’d considered giving Zach up for adoption. In the end, she’d made the right decision. A rush of relief hit her just as it had a thousand times over the years.
Gazing across the table at Lucas, she couldn’t deny the affinity she felt for Ruth Yoder. Surely, the woman had experienced the same deep desperation Tyne had. She couldn’t imagine any woman facing that dilemma without doing a huge amount of soul-searching.
“She’s the one who made the mistake.” His tone went hard. “Why did I have to suffer? Why did I have to grow up without a mother because she hadn’t been smart enough to insist on a condom?”
Tyne reached out and touched his arm. “Stop talking nonsense. If she’d used birth control, you wouldn’t be here.”
“And him,” he said.
Instinctively, she knew he was referring to the old man. Ruth Yoder’s father.
“How can a man ignore his own grandson for nearly half a lifetime?” Lucas shook his head. “The good bishop probably saw me as evil.” His lips twisted as he mocked, “The spawn of his daughter’s sin.”
“Oh, stop, Lucas. I mean it. This isn’t helping.” His arm felt warm beneath her fingertips. He was being so ridiculous she wanted to laugh at him, but she didn’t dare risk hurting his feelings. “You could spend the rest of your life making dire speculations, and all you’re doing is torturing yourself. You don’t know anything about the circumstances your mother and father were facing.”
He captured her fingers in his, nodding. “You’re right.” He took a deep breath, and when he released it, the tension in his shoulders eased. “You’re absolutely right.” The hint of a smile he offered was rueful. “I can always count on you to set me straight, can’t I?”
The smile she shot back was broad. “You betcha.”
He sipped his coffee and set the mug on the table. “She seemed afraid of her father, didn’t she?”
Tyne only nodded.
“I guess she just couldn’t find the strength to go against him, her church, her beliefs—” he shrugged “—her community. They’re a tight-knit bunch. And since her name’s still Yoder, I guess she never married. Unless she divorced and took back her name. Do the Amish believe in divorce? Do they allow it?” Lucas heaved a sigh. “I know almost nothing about them. Who knows what repercussions she’s had to deal with all these years?”
His grip on her didn’t lessen.
“Focus on the good,” she told him, ignoring the tiny frown that marred his brow. “She thought about you every day. You heard her say it.”
He didn’t react immediately, but then his head slowly bobbed. He lifted her hand a few inches.
“Thank you,” he murmured. “For urging me to do this. For going with me. For letting me vent.” He kissed the valley between her first and second knuckles and then pressed them to his chin. “For everything.”
Excitement trilled in her stomach and her body flushed with heat. When he set her fingers free, she tucked her hand in her lap to hide its trembling.
“Things might not have turned out as I
’d imagined, and the whole meeting was over almost before it started, but I am glad I went.” He grasped the mug. “Listen, all this had me thinking. I, um, I want to thank you for having the strength to go against everyone and raise Zach on your own. If you hadn’t, he wouldn’t know us.” He paused. “Can you imagine that?”
She couldn’t.
“You were brave, Tyne,” he said.
The compliment made her uncomfortable. “I don’t know about that. But I was naïve and inexperienced, and there were times when I felt extremely ill-equipped as a parent. That’s for sure.”
Lucas chuckled. “You have to stop regretting that bobby pin incident.”
“It wasn’t only that.” She balled up her paper napkin. “There were times—” Closing her eyes for an instant, she shook her head. There was no easy way to sum up those infant and toddler years full of motherly mishaps. “I think the worst was dealing with the grief of losing his step-father.”
His eyebrows arched and he blinked twice. “You were married?”
“I guess I should have mentioned it before, but…” She looked across the café where several other customers enjoyed a late afternoon snack. “It happened so long ago that—” she lifted a shoulder. “I met David when I catered a party for his construction company. It wasn’t his company. He was a cabinet maker for the company. He made beautiful furniture.” She slid back on the Naugahyde bench. “He was older than I was by quite a few years, and we were just friends at first. Because of him I started my first savings account. And he looked over a used car I wanted to buy. Things like that.” Memories made her smile. “When he suggested marriage, I actually laughed at him. His feelings were terribly hurt.
“Anyway, he knew I was struggling financially. Knew I was raising Zach by myself. Zach was two then. Just a toddler.” She smiled. “David doted on him.” A powerful sadness swept through her and she paused long enough to rein it in. “David presented a very logical argument; he didn’t have anyone to depend on, Zach and I didn’t, either. He thought we made a great team. We did get along well. So I agreed to marry him.” She looked Lucas in the eye. “It wasn’t a love match by any means. We both knew that. We were a team. It was a partnership.”
