RECLAIM MY HEART(21)

“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 Ceshould spe 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 would 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 Fut ay Cewith 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?”