RECLAIM MY HEART(35)

“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 f”erd fheaded 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.