RECLAIM MY HEART(59)

Patricia pulled back to wordlessly gaze into her daughter’s eyes, pressing her palms against Tyne’s cheeks. The moment stretched out for an eternity.
Her mother has always had a tendency to teeter close to the line of kind, caring intimacy, sometimes crossing into an odd realm of intrusion. With her mom’s hands still pressed to her face, Tyne was reminded of the strange sense of invasiveness and claustrophobia her mother’s officious affection caused her. It had only gotten worse when she’d become a teen. She remembered once complaining that her mother meant to bleed the life out of her with those long, yearning looks.
Annoyed with herself for finding fault before she’d even had a chance to say a word to her mother, Tyne smiled and pulled away from the loving but clingy touch. “Hi, Mom. You look wonderful.”
“Oh, Tyne.” Her mother pressed her palm on her heart. “I can’t tell you how happy I am to see you. I just can’t. There aren’t words.”
“Mom, Dad,” she said, turning and motioning Zach forward, “I’d like for you to meet my son, Zachary. Zach, these are your grandparents.”
The teen shook his grandfather’s hand. “Nice to meet you, sir.”
“Now, what’s all this ‘sir’ stuff?” Richard Whitlock asked. “I’d be happy if you’d call me Granddad.” His brow furrowed. “If you want to, that is.”
Zach only nodded, his whole face transformed by the offer as he continued to shake the man’s hand.
Patricia gave her grandson a big hug, and when she lifted her hands toward his face, Tyne quickly attracted her attention by touching her shoulder. Zach looked relieved.
“Mom, Dad,” Tyne said, shifting her self a quarter turn, “I’m sure you remember Lucas.”
“Of course.” Her mother hugged Lucas as if all that nasty name-calling and animosity of the past had never happened. “It’s so good to see you again.”
Lucas caught Tyne’s eye over the woman’s shoulder, sending a silent message of disbelief. He murmured, “Hello, Mrs. Whitlock.” Before Patricia could get her hands on his face, he took a quick sidestep and thrust his hand out toward Tyne’s father. “Mr. Whitlock.”
The wave of relief that hit Tyne was strong enough to make her lightheaded. Lucas intended to be civil. No one would have blamed him for acting otherwise.
“Mom, the place looks beautiful.” She let her gaze wander over the yard. “Dad told me you were busy with your gardening, but this is just amazing.” She lifted her hands and let her gaze scan from one corner of the property to the other. “Zach said you could charge an entry fee.”
Patricia beamed at the teen, then looked at her daughter. “I couldn’t handle this yard on my own. I have Martin’s Landscaping come in. You remember Mr. Martin. You went to school with his son, Mark.”
Indeed, Tyne remembered. Poor guy had environmental allergies and was always sporting some sort of angry rash that had him scratching his skin raw. His condition wasn’t excuse enough to keep his father from pressing him into service on weekends, school holidays and summer breaks.
“Mark went to chiropractic school,” Patricia said. “He’s got an office in Lancaster.”
Tyne nodded, happy to hear he’d found a way to change his career path.
“Mr. Martin comes himself to supervise the crew and I appreciate that so much.” Patricia wrinkled her nose. “His workers are mostly Mexican, or Cuban, or Guatemalan. Puerto Rican?” She shook her head, lifting her shoulders dismissively. “Something like that.”
“Hispanic?” Tyne supplied.
“Yes.” Her mom nodded. “But they do a great job.”
But?
Tyne shook her head, wanting to press the issue; however, she thought it best to bite her tongue.
“I’ll take this inside,” Richard said, lifting the cake he held in his hands. “It looks delicious, Tyne. There’s fresh lemonade over by the gazebo.”
Lucas, Zach, Tyne, and Patricia headed toward the pool. Next to the ornate gazebo there was an outside kitchen complete with a sink, granite countertop, and a massive grill.
“Do you like lemonade, Zach?” Patricia wrapped her fingers around the handle of the large glass pitcher.
“Yes, ma’am.” The teen finger-combed his hair and then scrubbed his palms on the thighs of his shorts, eyeing the patio furniture, the kitchen, the pool.
His grandmother poured him a tall glass and set it on the bar. “You should come swimming while you’re here. You could bring some friends. It would be fun. I’d like to meet your friends.”
“His new friends live in Wikweko.” Tyne heard the warning in her tone.
Patricia looked clueless.
“Mom, Zach’s friends are Native American.”
Her mom clicked her tongue, her breath leaving her in a huff. “I realize that, Tyne. What are you trying to say? That I don’t want Zach’s friends in my pool?” She crossed her arms. “I’ll have you know I have a pool party for all of Mr. Martin’s Mexicans—” she stopped, then raced to correct herself “—Hispanics, and their families, at the end of every season. Just to thank them for all the work they do.”
Snatching up the ice bucket, Patricia rounded the granite bar. “Don’t be difficult, Tyne. I’d wanted this to be…?I’d hoped—” Her fuchsia-tinted lips pressed into a tight, thin line. “I’m going to the house for more ice.” She glanced at Lucas and Zach. “I’m sorry. Excuse me for just a moment.”