“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 oubne handrubbed 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 little 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 dur pielementing 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.
Lookenoumn it. d 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
W
ikweko’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 avoiding anyone.”
He called out to Zach. “You’ve passed the gallery. Uncle Jasper’s place is here.” Lon ucas 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.
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 shouldtrun’s ser. “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 splayene ngers sd. “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 with 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 heingike may was pointing out that he thinks that I’m not…or something.” He looked over at Lucas. “Without actually sayin’ it, I mean.”