The following week, Rich stopped by the shop. Back from the West Coast, and searching for a starting place, Austin had called him. Clearly, Austin hadn’t revealed to Rich the full extent of his troubles. Rich concluded he was stressed out and agonizing over more than his mother’s death. He assumed it was the marriage. Jenny would neither confirm nor deny his assumption.

Rich sympathized, he couldn’t get involved. He’d given Austin the name of a therapist in private practice that law enforcement used when one of their own was troubled. “Al’s a good man,” he assured her, “easy to talk to, down to earth. If anyone can help, it’s Al Hustead.”

That evening when she came in from the shop, Daniel seemed more up-beat. He’d accepted a delivery from a florist. He was sure the box that rested on the table was from his dad. Jenny lifted the lid, pushed aside the tissue paper: a dozen perfect iris. In Austin’s hand, the card read simply, I love you. Her heart full and aching, she arranged the iris in a tall vase.

Later that evening, she wrote a note she’d send to his office: The iris are beautiful. Thank you for remembering they are my favorite flower. I will always love you.

Mother’s Day, Daniel had made a card from a folded piece of stationary. On the front he’d done a pencil sketch of their house and its surroundings, including Jenny’s gardens and his tree house perched in the maple with sheltering arms.

“A very good likeness,” she’d told him, impressed with a blossoming talent.

Inside the card, wreathed in a hand-drawn vine of ivy, and in his maturing hand, Daniel had composed a simple message: For the most special Mom on the planet ... and my best friend. Forever and always.

Her heart touched; she hugged him close. Tears welling in her eyes, she told him that “forever and always” she would treasure his precious sentiments.

Daniel blushed, breaking the embrace. From his pocket, he drew a small, blue velvet box. “Dad said, we should give you this,” He held the box out to her. “It was Grandma’s. She’d want you to have it.”

Full to overflowing, again her heart was touched from a distance by an absent husband. Inside the box, a fine gold chain. “It’s beautiful,” she murmured. “Thank your dad for me when you talk to him.”

Daniel said she could thank him herself. He’d be calling later in the day.

Later, they’d returned from a mother and son scouting event, when Jenny took the velvet box up to her bedroom, a good length to drop into the valley between her breasts—the sort of chain meant to hold a pendant. Sifting through her jewelry box, her thumb and index finger tightened on a perfect circle. Threading her wedding band onto the chain, she fastened the clasp, approved her reflection in the mirror. Close to her heart, she wore the chain with a perfect circle pendant the remainder of that day, and in the days thereafter.

The school year was coming to a close when Daniel came home with a letter from his teacher. Mrs. Colby opened by saying she’d enjoyed having Daniel as her student. He was passing all his subject, though his grades had dropped “markedly” since the Christmas break. His teacher confirmed that Daniel’s demeanor had changed. Mrs. Colby was aware of problems in the home which she hoped would find “a happy resolution.”

The reason for her letter was to “encourage” Daniel and his parents to take advantage of a summer program being offered at the school. A “pilot project” with limited enrollment incorporating core curriculum with the arts. There was to be a parent’s meeting at the school for early registration the following week. Summer school, Jenny considered, projecting into the months ahead. They’d been looking forward to the freedom of vacation, spending time in Welborne, and with Gramps at the lake. Peg’s girls were filling in, giving her a break. Summer school would put a crimp in those plans.

Daniel seemed ambivalent. She’d make no decision until she’d talked to Austin, she decided, folding the letter and placing it back in the envelope.

Austin didn’t call before the meeting at the school took place. She went alone to hear the pilot project outlined. In the end concluding, the project was well-suited to Daniel’s interests, as well as his needs. Would Austin approve? She didn’t know what plans he’d made for summer. It seemed, he’d fit Daniel in where and when his schedule allowed.

She’d left the building, heading for the shop, when suddenly she turned back. Daniel had fallen behind since Austin left; her son needed the boost this program could provide. She would decide what was best for Daniel. Returning to the school, she signed the registration, and took the schedule with her. They’d have two weeks to spend on reservation between the end of school and the start of summer session.

Before the sun was up that fine morning, Daniel and Gramps had gone off with the men and boys from Tall Elk, their destination the old Quaker Mission where they‘d made preparations for the scout’s canoe building project. Jenny bundled sewing supplies, her ledger, proceeds from late winter and spring sales, into a deer-hide tote before she headed out along the path to the hamlet of Tall Elk.

When men and boys were off to fish or on scout projects, women and their daughters gathered at the meeting house for crafts and tribal gossip. As a girl she’d walked this path with Gran. If she’d had a daughter ... pangs of loneliness quickened her step in anticipation of communing with clan sisters—women who provided high-quality crafts and artwork for the shop. Many of the girls she’d known had left the reservation, as she had, with the revival of traditions, some had returned. She looked forward to catching up with old friends. And she would enjoy lending a hand at the quilting table, or teaching the young ones to bead.

Returning to the lodge in time to prepare supper, she found Daniel and Gramps cleaning walleye. In high spirits, Daniel grinned from the cleaning table, a slab of raw wood supported by piles of flat stones. “We caught our supper.”

“Fish fairly jumped in our canoes,” Gramps reported, a harvest from minnow plantings undertaken by the Seneca and BIA. “We’ll cook ‘em out here in the open.”

She could almost taste the flavors of fresh walleye cooked over wood coals. “Corn bread, fried potatoes and greens from the garden will go good with your catch.” Here in the open with Gramps and Daniel, Jenny felt the weight of past months lift from her shoulders.

The morning they were packing the wagon for the trip to Indian Lake, Austin finally called. Daniel broke the news about the summer sessions. By then, he was excited to be attending as some of his friends were also enrolled. From his side of the conversation, she took it that Austin was annoyed not being consulted. Or was his bad-tempered exchange with Daniel because he opposed their trip to Indian Lake. His moods unpredictable, she avoided speaking to him, fleeing to the lake her haven from the troubles she’d endured. The gold chain and perfect circle left behind in her jewelry box.

As they enjoyed a hardy meal together beside the lake, Daniel and Gramps replayed the day’s events: Aside from canoe building, Buck Seamonds, Gramps and the scouts had inspected the teacher’s cabin on mission grounds in need of extensive repairs.

“Odd,” Gramps recounted. “A small bird … had to be a wren … flew through the open door, landing on a beam too high for us to reach ‘er.”

“A wren?” Jenny questioned.

Daniel nodded excitedly as Gramps continued his story.

“I told Daniel she’ll leave when she’s a mind to.” He shoveled a fork of white fish into his mouth, savoring flavors.

Daniel took up the story. “That wren didn’t have a mind to leave until she’d done what she came for.”

Jenny focused on her son. Why did Daniel and Gramps assume the wren was female? She went along. “What did she do?”

“Eyes wide, as though he couldn’t believe what he’d seen, he put down his fork. “She pecked away at that beam until she pushed a package over the edge.”

Again, Gramps took up the story. “Our Daniel was right there to catch it. Must have been tucked up there out of sight for years from the look of it.”

Daniel handed her a small rectangle wrapped in a faded napkin. “Buck said we should bring it to you.”

The incident they described seemed quite surreal. Had they opened the package?

Daniel washed the super dishes, Gramps dried and put away.

From a rocker in the main room, Jenny looked down at the package in her lap. With great care, she unwound a faded, linen napkin, embroidered W barely visible in a corner. Incased within the wrap, she found a book covered in faded green velvet. “Why did Buck think I should have this?” she murmured. Words Gramps took as query.

“You know the history,” he related. “Because you worked for Mr. Corkran, I think that’s what Buck meant.”

She raised the cover, read words written in the delicate script of a woman:

September 1840

This is the day I was to marry Nathan. My love has gone beyond the light into the great beyond.

Before her eyes Jenny saw the image of a man and woman, hand in hand, strolling through a field of daisies. She knew the couple to be Wren and Nathan. Overcome with strong emotions for a woman’s lost love, she could read no more that day. She closed the cover, enfolded Wren Welborne’s journal back into the wrapper, placing the journal on a book shelf in the lodge at Indian lake.

While they were away, Daniel walked in his sleep but once.

Arriving home, Austin’s voice was heard among the messages on the tape. He asked that Daniel call, just to let him know that they were safe. There was no anger in his tone; coming through, restraint, a hint of resentment.

Daniel called and left a message. Austin was travelling to the eastern regions of the state. A response recorded on the tape answered Daniel’s call. Ships passing in the night, one acknowledges the other from the safety of a vast expanse of ocean; distance easing sharp edges of pain.

The following Monday began what would become their summer routine. With each new day, Daniel’s interest and enjoyment in his courses became more enthusiastic. Jenny was pleased—and vindicated; her judgment had been sound. On the phone with Austin she came through sure and strong, while he seemed focused on his work and otherwise adrift. No mention made of the deadline she’d set. She didn’t press the issue; she focused on her work, and Daniel, faith ebbing, doubt increasing that their marriage could survive the unforgiving distance they’d allowed to swell between them.

Austin had Daniel for the day—a warm, humid Saturday. They’d gone to a Pirates’ game that went into extra innings. It was almost seven when he called to say that they were on their way. He’d need a few minutes of her time. Would she be there? She had planned to be at home. And soon after they arrived, at Austin’s suggestion, Daniel left them alone.

He stood in the window, casting a pencil-thin shadow on the living room carpet. “The yard needs some attention,” he observed.

The mower chugged, started with a mild explosion, then purred along the strip of grass beside the drive. “He’ll have just time to finish before dark,” she remarked, perching on the edge of the couch.

He turned his eyes to her, distracted “The blade needs sharpened. Roger at the hardware sharpened it before. Dan knows how to take it off.”

“We’ll get it sharpened,” she assured him.

“Right.” He glanced at his watch. “Not much time. I’ll get to the point.”

Expectantly, she studied him, their occasional discussions brief and to the point.

He focused. “He tells me he doesn’t walk in his sleep anymore.”

“He doesn’t remember. I don’t make an issue of it.” She told Austin she’d installed an alarm. “It wakes me; not him.”

“He is still walking then. How often?”

“It varies. Some nights more than once or not at all.”

Austin turned away, pacing, deep in thought. “There’s a therapist I’ve been seeing … that is ... we’ve had a few appointments ... sessions,” he corrected. “I told him about Danny. He thinks he can help.”

“A therapist?” This was the first she knew he was having sessions.

“Alan Hustead. He’s in private practice, works with the Sheriff’s Department, and the local police ... and with civilians.” Austin parted the curtain, watching Daniel guide the mower.

“You want Daniel to see him?”

“Would you be against it?”

“No, I wouldn’t be against it.” She had second thoughts. “Daniel would have to agree.”

“I’ll talk to him.” He paced a few feet away.

Was that all, she wondered. The moist, manly smell of him filled the room tormenting her with longing. She breathed shallow, trembled.

Austin came to a halt, dropped into his leather chair. While he’d been living elsewhere, neither she nor Daniel used Austin’s chair. Empty, a reminder of his absence.

He leaned back, his arms gripping the armrests. “I wasn’t getting anywhere with this ugly mess,” he related. “Reached a point ... I couldn’t function. One day I called Al from the office. Seemed a decent sort. No nonsense, and ... he listens … understands where I‘m coming from.” He looked into her face, expecting a reply.

“He’s helping you?”

“We talk. He asks me to imagine situations. What I want to happen.” Austin got to his feet, walked to the window from where he could see Daniel. “That’s how I decided I had to know. The test was done last week.”

The test ... Lloyd or Drew? Her heart stopped beating. “You know.”

Slowly, unfocused, he shook his head. “A month to six weeks.”

“That long?”

“Yeah, an eternity. In the meantime, I wait, and wonder.” He turned back to her. “Thought you ought to know.”

In his eyes she saw an anguish beyond the comfort she could offer. Lloyd, the man he’d emulated from the day he was born; Drew, a stranger. No matter who had been his seed, his memories of his mother forever tainted? In a month, six weeks, this nightmare he’d been living wasn’t coming to an end.

He headed for the door. “I gotta be on the road.”

She stood, fighting back tears that stung her eyes while struggling with the longing to hold him in her arms, and be held.

In the front hall he hesitated. “I’ll call about Dan’s session with Al,” he said, glancing over his shoulder. His eyes held hers, a split-second connection, revealing more than words could say.

She pressed her fingers to her lips. He turned away, walked out on the porch and down the steps. The mower shifted into idle. ... Daniel’s pleas, Austin’s promises, sealed with the masculine embrace she felt, but couldn’t bear to look upon. “Be safe.”

The bright, sunlit days of July had passed into the burnished haze of August. Austin seldom called. Daniel became his parent’s emissary, a role he filled with the diplomatic skills of a seasoned envoy.

Then came a night she stepped out of the tub to hear the phone ring in the bedroom. Knowing who it was, she grabbed her robe, dashed down the hall.

He said, “You’re out of breath. Where were you?”

She told him where she’d been. He said he’d just got back. He’d been in New York—the city. Dread crept under her robe, up her wet legs and torso. She shivered and felt sick in her stomach. The test results.

A disturbance in the hall diverted her attention. Daniel stood outside the door; awake or sleep walking she couldn’t tell. “Austin, Daniel’s here.”

“The phone woke him. I’m sorry.”

Daniel rubbed his eyes, advancing into the room. “Dad?” He flopped down on the bed.

From his demeanor she could see he’d been awakened. “Do you want to speak to him?”

Together they said, “Yeah.”

She gave the receiver to Daniel, went back to the bathroom for a towel. He wouldn’t reveal to Daniel the outcome of the test. They’d decided this was not the time. He may never have to know there was a question of a broken blood line. That would be Austin’s call.

Jenny dallied in the hall, not listening to their words, more the tone of their voices. Daniel was sleepy and yawning. A brief and stilted conversation coming to an end, he said, “Mom, Dad wants you.”

Trembling, she took the receiver from his hand. “Go back to your own bed, Daniel.” She listened to his footsteps padding down the hall, his body dropping to his bed. Placing the receiver to her ear, she drew in a long, ragged breath. “He’s gone.”

A silence; he collected his thoughts. “We had a meeting with the doctors this afternoon. ... Aunt Audra was there, and Faith.”

Faith, she knew, was Mrs. Welborne’s sister who lived in New York where her husband was a prominent surgeon. Their parents dead and gone.

Methodically, Austin continued. “Ninety-nine point nine percent sure, Drew’s the winner ... or loser, depending on your point of view.”

It took a moment for the impact of his words to fully register. Her gasp, the only audible sound.

“That was my reaction,” Austin responded. “I’m still in shock.”

Confirmed. Blood ties to the Putnams and the Welbornes, two old-line, Anglo families—White as the driven snow. An avalanche engulfing her, her legs gave out. Gripping the receiver, she dropped down on the bed as Austin went on.

“Aunt Audra said she’d always known. Faith cried and hugged me. They want to be part of my life ... and Danny’s, Daniel’s life.”

Cold fear gripped her heart. Of one thing she could be certain: She would not be included in whatever these haughty women had in mind.

“I told them we’d have to move slow on that,” he remarked, a heavy sigh. “I thought I was prepared whatever way this went. I wasn’t.”

She heard rancor in his tone, and pain, and a weariness of mind and body. “I’m sorry things turned out this way.”

“So am I.”

Silence filled the chasm of unspoken thoughts. “What will you do now?”

“Lay low.” He chuckled, dryly. “Lick my wounds.”

He wasn’t amused. That sardonic chuckling was the way he covered pain. Come home. The words formed in her heart; she couldn’t say them.

“Well, I wanted you to know the outcome. ... It’s been a long day. I’d better hang up. Let you get to bed.”

Don’t hang up. The pleading was silent. “I’m here, if you want to talk.”

“Thanks, not now. I gotta work this out in my own way, my own time.”

Jenny felt her heart burst. At the same time came a flash of anger. How could Audra Welborne do this to her flesh and blood? “You’ll call,” she murmured, nearly unable to speak.

“Yeah, I’ll call. ... Good night.”

She couldn’t say good night, or come home, or I love you, or any words. The line went dead.

Sleep didn’t come. Her hand went to the phone a dozen times or more. She didn’t dial his number, afraid she’d wake him. Sleep, he needed. Her thoughts and fears she couldn’t make coherent.

Daniel. What would this mean for him? Faith and Audra, Great Aunts, how that came to pass. A new family to digest. Daniel was too young to make sense of all the years of deception and secrets. In some profound way, Jenny knew this revelation had to change the course of Austin’s life, and most surely their marriage. Yet her heart went out to him. He was the man she’d chosen. She couldn’t love him any less because…

As the sun was coming up, she dialed his number. “Austin.” She whispered, so as not to waken Daniel.

“Yeah,” he answered, an uncertain tone, before recognizing her voice, “Hi.”

“Last night, I didn’t take your news well. I’m sorry.”

“It’s a bummer,” his laugh forced and brittle. “I’m not taking it well. Why should you?”

“I think about you all the time and wonder. Where will all this end?”

“Hard as I’ve tried,” he conceded, “I can’t put you out of my mind.”

“Do you want to come home?” She endured a silence as though he were torn between choices.

“I can’t, Jenny. But, don’t give up on me … yet.”

“If you want to talk, I’m here.”

“Yeah, we’ll talk, after I’ve sorted out some things.”

“With Dr. Hustead.”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll hold a good thought for ...” The words stuck in her throat.

“Jenny.” His voice trembled with emotion. “I love you.”

Did he have to reach inside, grab her heart and make her want him even more. She disconnected. He wouldn’t hear the wail raising from deep wells of longing she’d contained these lonely months. Face first, she dropped into her pillow, a tortured weeping could not be heard.

Big Boys, juicy, soft-ball size, ripened on the vine; summer squash and cucumber overflowing a reservation basket; plump, scarlet bulbs pulled from a row of maturing beets, food for body and soul. Jenny set an armload of Swiss chard atop summer squash moving the basket to the shade of a towering elm that grew along the fence running between the Burdette’s yard and Nellie Townsend’s.

Daniel was street side trimming Nellie’s hedges. Jenny expected her elderly neighbor to put in an appearance, pass the time of day, execute their usual exchange. She filled a second basket with vegetables, omitting the ones that “repeated” on the old lady.

On cue, the screen door squeaked, cradling a mason jar, Nelly hobbled down the back steps, one painful riser at a time. “See ya’ got my ration there,” she called out, trudging up to the fence where she handed across a quart of apple butter.

Jenny swung the basket over in return. Nellie admired the harvest, placing it at her feet while they commented on the, heat, a need for rain and such. With a lull in the conversation, Nellie glanced towards Daniel. “Don’t know what I’d do without that boy,” she remarked, rocking tight, silver curls side to side. “Been a life saver, ‘e as.”

Jenny sighed. “I’ve said the same.”

Nellie’s sharp eye caught the wistful expression, no hint of guile in the question she posed. “Where’s the mister been? My boys ‘r in some trouble. ‘E’ll know ‘ow ta fix ‘em.”

The Pirates had been in a slump for several weeks. She could trust Nelly not to spread the word about their separation. “Austin hasn’t lived here for a while, Nellie. We ... separated.”

“Wha…?” Nellie’s jaw dropped causing her dentures to clop.

Jenny wet on, “We’ve kept as normal a life as possible for Daniel’s sake.” And her own, she admitted to herself.

“The boy, of course.” Nellie pressed her index finger to her lips, glancing towards the front yard where they could see Daniel raking trimmings. Conspiratorially, Nellie leaned against the fence. “There’s a bleached-blond, home-wreckin’ hussy in the pi’ture.”

Jenny smiled wishing she’d kept quiet. “It’s not that sort of trouble. It’s more … complicated.”

“Ahhhhh.” Nellie brightened, nodding, and bringing her finger to her temple. “The Change! Men git it too.”

Taken aback a bit, Jenny reacted, an eyebrow arched.

“Did ya’ think men were differ’nt in my day? Nawww,” she scoffed a dismissive flick of the wrist. “Men get skittish in thar forties. Look about an’ think thar missin’ somethin’.” She gave Jenny a reassuring grin. “Figger out what they got was what they wanted all along.” Nellie’s open face took on a serious expression. “‘Ow long di’ ya give ‘im?”

Jenny finished Nellie’s question: to come to his senses. “The end of summer.” She’d extended the deadline.

“Good!” A twinkle sparkled in the old woman’s dark eyes. “We cain’t ‘ave ‘r men folk thinkin’ they cun run amuck ‘n wipe thar boots ‘n ‘r hurt pride, now cun we?” Nellie gave a wink, her laughter, an eruption.

She leaned across the fence, patting Jenny’s hand. “‘e’ll come home. A man never ‘ad it good’s that man’s got it ‘ere. Mark my words. ‘e’ll come home.” She sung around, then back again, picking up the basket. “Not ta worry, my lips is sealed.”

Jenny looked after her neighbor, a troubling mix of assurance and doubt. It seemed Nellie carried her bent but sturdy frame more upright than she’d been before. A sweep of her hand, she went inside.

Returning to her garden, Jenny couldn’t chase that exchange with Nellie from her mind. The old know the ways of the world. The ways of men and women over time. Restless male; nesting female. Birds do it ... bees, wildlife. Human beings more complex, or, at least, more pampered.

She loved Austin, completely, too completely; he loved her, in his way. They shared a cherished child, a wealth of pain and pleasure. A life. It wasn’t enough. She didn’t know who she was anymore; nor did he. How could they be together? They had to find their way ... alone.