RECLAIM MY HEART(13)

Lucas slid between Tyne and Zach to unlock the front door. As soon as he entered, he set down his own suitcase and tugged off the sheet that covered the couch. The curtains were drawn and white sheets still hid the remainder of the furniture, but a deep sense of nostalgia rolled through Tyne when she stepped into the living room. How many Saturday afternoons had she sat here watching television with Lucas? It had been a different couch, of course, but they had spent so much time together—in this room, in this house—getting to know each other, talking about their hopes and dreams.
“It won’t take me long to clean this place up,” Lucas assured them.
“We’ll help.” Tyne moved further into the room, nudging her son ahead of her. “Won’t we, Zach?”
“Sure. I guess.”
The petulance in his tone had her cutting a sideways glance of warning at him. “Of course, we will. Lucas, tell us where to stow our bags and we can get to work.”
Lucas matched two corners of the sheet while folding it. “You take Uncle JasperourUncle J’s old room. Off the kitchen.” He motioned the way with a tip of his head.
“I remember. But that’s the big bedroom.” The suitcases were beginning to feel like lead weights in her hands.
“You take it. That way you’ll have your own bathroom. Jasper added one on. The men can share. That okay with you, Zach?”
Her son shrugged. “Got no prob.”
Lucas pointed down the hall. “You take the bedroom on the left. That was my old room. I don’t think my uncle’s changed much in there. I’ll take the one straight back. The bathroom is to the right.”
“Sweet,” Zach said, hitching his backpack further up on his shoulder and trekking down the hallway.
Tyne didn’t get it. Zach was Mr. Sunshine with Lucas and grumpy as hell with her. She thought she and her son should be sharing some solidarity. What was going on?
A couple of hours later, all the beds had been made up with fresh sheets, the dust covers had been removed from the upholstered furniture, counters and tables had been dusted, the carpet vacuumed, and a soft summer breeze fluttered the curtains of the open windows.
Tyne finished shining the stainless steel sink, rinsed and wrung the dishcloth and hung it over the faucet. Then she dried her hands and, still clutching the dishtowel, she went into the living room. Seeing Lucas and Zach sitting on the couch, she frowned.
“What’s going on?” Her son didn’t take his eyes off the bow in his hands, so she asked, “What’s that?”
Lucas chuckled. “It’s a bow, Tyne.”
Heat flushed her body. “I know what it is. What’s he doing with it?”
“He gave it to me.” Zach clutched the thick wood of the bow’s handle as he lightly fingered the taut string as if it were some sort of exotic musical instrument. There was wonder in his tone, in his gaze, in his touch.
“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 t
“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.”