Reclaim My Heart

chapter THIRTEEN

Teens and cliques seemed to go hand in hand. Back when Tyne went to high school, there were the Rah-rahs and the Jocks, cheerleaders and athletes who lived in a world all their own and would rather die than be caught next to a Punkster, those kids who bragged about cutting class and smoking cigarettes or weed behind the gym. There were the Techs, those kids who boarded a bus each afternoon that took them to a school where they learned to rat hair or tune carburetors and who should never be confused with Techies who loved computers and gadgets and who couldn’t be confused with Trekies who dreamed of visiting galaxies far, far away with Captain James T. Kirk.

There were sub-groups within groups, insiders who snickered at outsiders, for the sole purpose of power, exclusion, and control. Coping mechanisms to combat pubescent insecurity.

But as the dusky pink twilight fell over the birthday gathering, Tyne couldn’t help noticing how well the Lenape teens got along. Sure, there was some teasing, but there was nothing mean-spirited in it. There could have been some underlying tensions going on; these were normal teens, but from what Tyne witnessed, these kids were amazingly friendly toward one another. It could be that the inequitable treatment these young men and women received from outside their close community impelled them to be more open to their own, more embracing of individual differences.

The change in Zach was unbelievable. Just as Jasper had predicted, her son had been contemplative for days following his camping trip. When he communicated, it was in quiet tones and measured words. He did what he was told without argument. He pitched in around the house. He hadn’t asked about visiting his grandparents, hadn’t mentioned Oak Mills even once. If Tyne hadn’t witnessed his dark eyes shine with anger earlier today, she might have suspected that Jasper left her son out in the woods and brought her back a ‘Stepford’ child.

The incident had been sparked when a group of teens had arrived at the house that morning planning to drive to Millersville to swim at the home of a friend of one of the girls. Tyne didn’t know the driver of the car, didn’t know the other teens, and the way they’d hemmed and hawed answering her questions about adult supervision had made her uncomfortable. She’d finally told Zach he couldn’t go, and he’d been furious. She’d braced herself for a tirade.

He’d wrestled with his emotions, then he’d grown quiet, taken a couple of deep breaths, and walked away. The other teens left with shouted promises of seeing Zach at the birthday party later that on in the evening. Although her son hadn’t spoken to her for a couple of hours after that, Tyne couldn’t really call his behavior sulking. He’d agreed to help Lucas replace the handle on the shed in the backyard, and once they had returned from the hardware store, she’d heard them laughing together as each took a turn trying to pry off the old, rusted latch.

If Jasper could find a way to bottle whatever techniques he’d used to transform her son, the man would be a millionaire.

“I brought you some water.” Lucas handed her the bottle and then sat down beside her on the old quilt they’d brought to the party.

“Thanks.” Tyne unscrewed the top and took a drink.

He looked over to where Dorothy Johnson was being fawned over. A little boy was perching a paper tiara on the old wom v.an’s head.

“She looks happy, doesn’t she?” Lowering his voice, he added. “And she doesn’t look a day over ninety-eight.”

“Lucas!” Tyne laughed. “I can’t imagine living a hundred years, can you?”

He grinned at her. “A better question is would we want to?”

Tyne causally lowered her chin, studying the cap of the bottle she’d just opened, a bright spot of white against the green cotton cloth. All he had to do was flash those dark eyes at her and her body reacted erratically.

Over by the cake table, Dorothy laughed and clapped at something the child said to her.

“Not that you wouldn’t make a beautiful centenarian,” he murmured.

Again, Tyne laughed. “Do you care much about beauty at that age?”

He shrugged and then stretched his long legs out in front of him, resting his weight on his elbows. The blue jeans he wore only seemed to accentuate his muscular thighs, and it was easy for Tyne to remember smoothing her hands over them even though she hadn’t touched him intimately in what felt like an entire lifetime.

“The chicken’s delicious,” he told her. “I snatched a piece. You should have something to eat.”

She nodded. “Later. I’m too busy watching all these people. There’s so much going on.”

A group of toddlers kicked a ball not too far away. Women shuffled bowls and platters of food on the long row of tables in order to make more room as people arrived with their potluck offerings. Further out on the field, a dozen or so adults played a game that looked a little like football, but the rules were obviously different. It was men vs. women. The men couldn’t run the ball but could only pass it from one player to another in their attempt to cross the goal line. The women could run, pass, and punt, and they became inordinately physical with the men in order to steal the ball. One woman jumped on a man’s back, tugged on his ears, then covered his eyes with one hand and smacked the ball from his grasp with the other. Her teammate scooped the ball off the ground and raced like the wind. When they’d arrived for the party, Lucas had told her the game was called pahsahëman. The players were having a good time, but the game looked too rough for Tyne to give it a try.

“I’ve missed this.” He tapped his thumbs on the blanket as if he were keeping the beat of some rhythm playing in his head. “The food. The family and friends. It’s really nice.” His thumbs stilled and he sank a little lower. “It feels homey. Comfortable. Right.”

The way his voice had gone all soft around the edges made her belly tense. The bottle of water she held was slick with condensation. She reached up and brushed her moist fingers across her forehead. “You ever think about moving back?”

Without hesitation, he said, “I couldn’t make any money here.” He sat there looking at her, and then tilted his head slightly as some inscrutable emotion passed over his face. Then in one effortless motion he sat up, bent his legs and palmed his knees. “Well, I’ll be damned if he wasn’t right.”

Tyne tucked her feet beneath her. “Who was right? What are you talking about?”

“Uncle Jasper.” Once again, his thumbs started drumming but this time on his knees. “A couple weeks ago, we had words.” His palms lifted up in the air for an instant. “Well, as much as anyone can argue with Jasper, anyway. The man’s never raised his voice in his life, I don’t believe. Doesn’t have to. He chooses just the right thing to say to make you feel about this tall.” He held his index finger and thumb less than an inch apart.

Tyne had known something was going on between the two men.

Lucas rubbed his palms back and forth across his knees, gazing out at the field.

“So,” she gently prodded, “what’d he say?”

Lucas was so deep in thought she doubted he was even aware she’d spoken. She busied herself taking a sip of water then putting the cap back onto the bottle. A little boy shouted in triumph when he caught the ball tossed to him by his mother. Dorothy admired a necklace made of dyed pasta strung on bright yellow yarn, a gift from a girl who looked about six or seven. The child’s eyes glowed as Dorothy leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek.

“He told me a story. About a fish, making its way to the ocean. Jasper feels that my ambition—”

Lucas’s tone was almost a whisper.

“—has caused me to lose sight of Lenape values. Giving up pieces of myself. That’s what he insinuated.” He balled his hands and propped his elbows on his knees. “I thought I was reaching for success.” He tapped his knuckles against his chin. “I’ve got a four bedroom house in the city. Two new cars. A walk-in closet full of designer suits. A timeshare in Fort Lauderdale. Another in Vale I’ve never even seen.” The sound he emitted was harsh. “I’ve only been to the one in Florida once. Couldn’t stand all that heat and solitude. I give away my vacation weeks. Or lose them in the Wednesday night poker games.” He shook his head, his stark gaze turning full on her face. “How extravagant can one person be?”

Tyne thought of how she’d struggled and did without in order to provide for Zach. If it hadn’t been for David’s life insurance and the subsidy she’d qualified for because she was both a first-time home buyer and a single mother, she never would have achieved the dream of owning a house. Her two-bedroom row home was cozy, but it was enough. Her battered Toyota wasn’t totally reliable, but that was the next big ticket item on her list to replace just as soon as her saving account was padded enough to take the hit. She thought of all the times Zach had asked for things—ridiculously expensive sneakers, an iPad, a skateboard that cost more than three months worth of electric bills—and she’d had to say no simply because she couldn’t afford them.

“From the time I was a kid,” Lucas said, “I was taught that taking and giving was necessary. As normal as breathing. We inhale the oxygen we need and exhale the carbon dioxide that’s crucial to every plant and flower and tree on earth. Give and take. Every Elder I ever talked to lectured that taking more than what’s needed upsets the balance of nature.”

Half a dozen questions sprouted in her mind about how he’d been raised verses his current extravagant lifestyle, but she held her tongue. The concentration etched on his brow and the set of his jaw told her he was doing plenty of self-examining all on his own.

Tyne watched as Jasper and four other men helped the teens wheel a flatbed cart from the rear door of the Community Center. A large drum sat securely on the cart. A group of teens, Zach included, lifted the drum and gingerly set it on the grass near the small fire that crackled and flickered against the growing darkness. The game of pahsahëman broke up, the adults laughing and talking as they made their way over to the bonfire.

Five young men formed a tight semi-circle, shoulder to shoulder, and began to pound a beat on the drum while Jasper sang. Two other Elders made their way toward the drumming and took up the chant. The strong harmony carried on the hot summer air, haunting and powerful.

A couple of the teens looked self-conscious, but not Zach. His smile was as broad as his puffed chest, his dark head bobbing with each synchronized strike on the drum.

“He really does fit in up there, you know?” Lucas murmured. “He’s loving it.”

Tyne only nodded silently, thinking the same thing. She’d never seen her son enjoying himself so thoroughly.

The str {="5ed ains for the first song had barely ended when the second began. This one was livelier than the last. One of the drummers waved at a man in the crowd to join him; Zach invited Lucas with a short jerk of his head. Lucas jumped to his feet and jogged over; his shoulder pressed against Zach’s as he took up a knobby stick and thumped the ancient beat.

It was a good scene, a happy scene. But watching father and son bonding around the ceremonial drum filled her with sadness. It also made her doubt every decision she’d ever made as Zach’s mother.

• • •



Later that evening, Tyne helped herself to strawberry short cake, smiling when the young woman at the table scooped a dollop of freshly whipped cream on top. The fruit was sweet on her tongue, the cake, buttery, the thick cream, delectably rich.

The teens had taken a break from drumming and a trio of flautists were entertaining the crowd, the wooden instruments producing an orphic melody that flowed like a lazy river.

The small hairs on the back of her neck stood on end when someone approached her from behind.

“Come with me,” Lucas whispered close to her ear. “I want to show you something.”

Ever since he’d drummed with their son, his gaze kept seeking her out and finding her. When she’d gone to give Dorothy her birthday gift, she’d felt him watching. And during a conversation with Jasper, she again caught Lucas staring.

He slipped the plate from her fingers and set it on the table, then he took her hand and led her away from the gathering.

Before he’d taken his first step, instinct told her where he was headed. Vivid memories skimmed across her skin like fairy dust, raising goose flesh and making it difficult to breathe.

He rounded the corner of the building and headed for the large oak that stood sentry at the edge of the thick forest.

It was under that very tree, on a clear evening just like tonight, at a gathering much like this one, that he’d kissed her for the first time. He’d been a senior and she, a sophomore. She’d been a member of the popular crowd and had a ton of friends. He’d been a loner with a rebellious reputation. A troublemaker in tight jeans, a bad boy who had intrigued her beyond reason—from afar, of course. She’d have never extended her friendship to him; doing so would have broken every single unwritten rule and would have resulted in social suicide. But once they’d had a chance to talk, it hadn’t taken her long to sort out fact from mean-spirited gossip.

They’d met at a football game; he’d made a phenomenal catch and had run the ball across the goal line. Later on, she would learn what a rare occurrence it was for Lucas to be involved in a play. She had stopped him after that game to compliment him. She’d merely meant to be polite. He’d looked at her as if she were from another planet. But just as the feeling of insult began to set in and she turned to walk away, he’d called to her. He’d thanked her for her compliment, and then he’d invited her to a movie. There had been something in his confident stare that excited her. The sharp angles and hollows of his face, the dusky tone of his skin, made him seem almost exotic to her.

Not allowing herself to consider the consequences, she’d agreed to meet him at the theater. For weeks they arranged rendezvous at various places around Oak Mills, a diner out on the main road, a stand of pines on the more remote side of the park, the old Dairy Freeze. She’d thought they’d been careful, but she’d lost friends faster than she’d ever thought possible. That hadn’t mattered; she’d been too captivated by the boy with the sable eyes and the long, sexy hair.

Vivid dreams of heated kisses and {d kt matttentative touches had shocked her awake each night, but three excruciating weeks went by and he hadn’t even held her hand. All he’d done was talk, and he seemed to want to know everything about her. Of course, she was happy to oblige, but being with him was torment. A voice in her head whispered that he was all wrong for her, but her more sensual urges made her desperate to discover the taste of his lips on hers.

Then in late Sept, he’d invited her to the Lenape Harvest Festival.

Lucas had acted so nervous once she’d arrived that he’d set her on edge. She had known something was going to happen, but for the life of her she couldn’t figure out if he was garnering the courage to finally kiss her or tell her their budding relationship had all been a mistake.

She’d trembled when he’d finally taken her hand and led her into the darkness, just as he was doing now. Her knees had grown quivery back then—she could still remember the feeling as if it had happened yesterday—and she’d been thankful for the support of the solid tree trunk at her back. He hadn’t said a word. Had only studied her face for the longest time. She had feared she would drown in the black depths of his gaze. And then he’d kissed her, gently, softly, over and over.

It had been the most romantic moment of her life.

He’d turned bold, looking directly into her eyes as he’d skimmed his hand over her shoulder, her waist, her hip. She’d let him touch her, never breaking eye contact, as kaleidoscopic feelings shivered and pulsed through her body. And then he’d kissed her again, this time rougher and deeper, but not rough or deep enough to satisfy the new and burgeoning need radiating in her belly and between her thighs. Then he pulled her to him and wrapped his arms around her. The solid mass of him made her sigh.

Lucas had whispered against her neck, “You’re beautiful,” and she’d thought she would dissolve into a pale, liquescent pool right at the base of that oak tree.

She’d have given herself to him, then and there, on the grassy ground. She’d have surrendered her heart, her virginity,





and anything else he might have wanted.

And here they were again all these years later, the massive tree at her back, those black, piercing eyes boring into hers.

“Do you remember?” he whispered.

She didn’t have to speak. Her answer radiated from her like a humming current of energy.

Sounds of faint laughter and happy voices carried on the still air just as they had all those years ago.

“I’ve been thinking about this spot all evening.” He smoothed his thumb along her jaw. “About that night. That kiss.”

And she’d been trying hard all evening not to.