Labor Day, the end of summer. The phone rang late one night; it had to be Austin. He was in Ohio working on an order. A forced cheerfulness, he said, “Hi, how are you?”

She said, “We’re fine, and you?”

“Okay, okay,” he responded, a qualified tone. And then he asked if she could talk.

Daniel was sleeping. She propped the pillows, sat up against the headboard.

He collected his thoughts. “I ... I, ahhhh,” flustered, he began again. “I want to come home ... if you’ll have me.”

Incredulous, she leaped out of bed, pacing the length of the cord. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Comes out of the blue, I know. Let me give you some background.”

From out of the blue, yes. Wide awake, could she be dreaming?

He drew a heavy breath, began to tell her how it happened. “I had a breakthrough. That’s what Al calls it when a patient turns a corner—breakthrough.” He paused, continued, “I got unstuck. Like a weight came off my shoulders.” Chuckling, he painted an image. “A thousand pound gorilla.”

The image amusing, Jenny laughed, twisting the cord in her fingers.

And he laughed, reducing tensions. “After the breakthrough, he went on, “I began to see things in a different light. Man! One hell-of-a-bad trip.”

“Grieving,” Jenny observed, grief the more obvious conclusion.

“Grieving, yeah,” he agreed. “More than grief, though that’s been part of it. ... Soul searching. Al says, ‘identity crisis.’” He sniffed, as though the words offended. “I have some insight into what our boy is going through.”

Daniel. Was he the reason? She hadn’t heard another reason for a breakthrough. “Are you saying you want to come back because of Daniel?”

He considered a moment. “I seem to remember asking you that question not long ago.”

Pam. The pain of infidelity came flooding back. “Yes, you did.”

“And, you said, you couldn’t leave me. You loved me…. I love you. Both of you.” A sigh of frustration came over the line. “Damn! This isn’t going well. ... I want to come home because, leaving you was stupid. I belong with you ... and him.”

The moment she’d longed for from the day he left: Vindication. Reservations ebbing away in the flush of the moment, their life together and apart scrolled before her eyes—too fast to grasp the best and worst of it. She must keep her head. Words began to form. “There’s so much we need to talk about. So many things we haven’t settled.”

“Right! ... Where do we start?”

Identity, his word. Who they were, or had become. She said, “With ... who I am.”

“You’ve always known who you are.”

She returned to the side of the bed. “That’s not true. For a long time I’ve been searching for the missing pieces of me.” The pieces she’s cast aside to hold his love, and a marriage together.

“Missing pieces,” thoughtful he repeated. “You found them?”

“Sometimes the pieces fit. Not always.”

“I hear ya’.” Grimly, he chuckled. “I thought I knew who I was. We know how that turned out.”

No words came, only conflicting thoughts and emotions.

He went on in a more serious tone. “I’ve been putting my new pieces together. You, you’re part of me. I can’t make the pieces fit without you ... and our son.”

Could she make her pieces fit without him? She drew a breath, exhaling, thoughtfully. “Daniel and I share the blood. The Iroquois are our people. That’s where you and I come apart.”

“In the past, yeah.”

“You have to accept me as I am.”

“Can you accept me?”

“I don’t know. Mrs. Welborne, and her sister, your aunts, they want to be part of your life. That scares me.” What they could do to Daniel terrified her.

“I’ll handle them,” he answered, much too quickly to consider what it meant—avoiding family ties.

“I’m not willing to give up my connections to my people. How can I ask you to do that?”

“Humm,” he considered, as though for the first time seeing the conflict. “You’re right. We have things to talk about.” He said, he wouldn’t press her for an answer. “My wanting to come home, it’s on the table.”

They agreed to sleep on his suggestion, talk again when he returned from Ohio. The conversation took a turn to Daniel, his activities, his state of mind, sleep walking. Austin said he hoped the sessions with Al had helped.

Incidents had become less frequent, she said, tucking her pillow. She sat on the edge.

He said, that was good, adding that she must have spent a lot of sleepless nights.

“One eye open,” she commented, dryly.

“I’m sorry I’m not there to see him through this.”

They knew the roots of Daniel’s insecurity began with their separation. Their son was pulled apart because of them. Neither one could say the words.

He said, “I miss you ... us.”

The pull powerfully seductive, she resisted the temptation to simply say—come home. “I miss us, and you. We’ve always had this strong physical attraction.”

“Do we ignore it? I can’t.”

“I don’t want us to ignore it. It has a place.”

“Important place,” he stressed, breaking off the discussion. “Okay, so, we’ll talk again.”

“Yes, when you get back from Ohio, we’ll talk.”

“Face to face?”

“Mmm, I don’t know.” That pull got in the way of serious discussions.

“Okay.” He laughed. We’ll see how things work out. “I’ll call.”

The next time he called was in the morning from his office, just to say that he was back and catching up on paperwork. He’d call again that night, if they could talk? She said, she’d be home. He said, about ten. She said, ten was fine.

At exactly ten, the first ring sounded. An amused tone, picking up the phone, she said, “You’re punctual.”

He laughed. “I try.”

Silence is golden, it’s said. Silence has a plethora of meanings when two people know each other’s hearts, if not always the mind of the other.

He began, “I’ve learned a few things talking with Al, about the way you and I communicate.”

“Mmmm.”

“Couples who’ve been together as long as we have become non-verbal.”

She considered, deciding it was true. On the phone, a tone of voice, a pause, even silence spoke volumes.

“The problem with non-verbal is ... misunderstandings.”

People don’t always speak the truth, she reasoned. The truth more faithfully expressed in the eyes, the face, the hands—body language.

“We anticipate each other,” Austin went on. “We assume we know what the other thinks, or feels.”

True, she agreed without words.

“You have a way of telling me things without words ... like now.”

“I’m thinking about what you’re saying.”

“I get the feeling you’re skeptical.”

“In some ways.”

“What ways?”

She thought about the way he paced when he was worried; the way his hand swept his face for different reasons. “Mannerisms. I read them.”

“That’s what Al was pointing out. Do we read each other right? I mean ... I don’t always know what’s in your mind. I’ve guessed wrong, I don’t know how many times.”

She felt confused. Where was this going? “Some things are better left unsaid.”

Austin chuckled. “One of those old saws, Al debunks.” He paused, began again. “There is something I have to say to you. Al put me on this track. Until I get it straight in my head I can’t put it into words.”

Al. She was feeling threatened by a man she’d never met. She heaved a sigh. “Mmm.”

“And what am I to make of that?”

“What?”

“The sigh. The sound you made.”

“I didn’t know I made a sound.”

“You did.”

“I ... I can’t put it into words.”

“Try.”

“I don’t know this man, and he’s annoying me.” There was more annoyance in her tone than she intended to express.

“And you’re annoyed with me.”

She was, but she held her tongue. He waited for her answer. “I’m not annoyed with you.” She lied; her face flushed.

“Okay.” Not believing, he accepted. “I called to talk about something else,” he said, abandoning the subject. “I want you to know that I had a talk with Aunt Audra. I let her know that Danny, Dan was off-limits.”

Daniel and Audra Welborne in the same breath like a sharp, cold dagger thrust deep into her heart.

Austin continued. “She’s got her hands full anyway with Uncle AJ’s illness. She won’t push the issue.”

For how long, Jenny wondered.

“Did I tell you Uncle AJ’s in a clinic in New York for evaluation?”

“I didn’t know. How is he?”

“Not good.”

“I’m sorry.”

“His mind is going fast. John can’t believe what’s happened to his dad. He’s desperate, and mad at the world. But it’s out of their control.”

“Mmmm.” Mr. Welborne had been kind to her. Mrs. Welborne ...

“I’m a fine one to talk,” Austin commented.

Jenny’s thoughts returned to him. “What?” A silence. Was he considering how much he should reveal? “You said, ‘you were a fine one to talk.’”

“Yeah. I meant the mad-at-the-world part.”

“Are you?”

“I was,” he readily admitted. “Mother, Uncle AJ, Aunt Audra, I think even my dad, they all knew. I blamed all of them for ... I’m coming to see how dumb that is.”

He didn’t sound angry, more resigned, and sad.

“I’m over it. … Well almost. Sometimes it gets the best of me, but I’m handling it better.”

“Mmmmm.” Austin lashing out at the world, at her, had been frightening. A side of him she didn’t want to see again.

“I couldn’t make decisions about us ... about coming home, until I got this behind me. You’ve been hurt enough.”

“And you’ve been hurt.”

The brittle chuckle. He scoffed. “Nobody set out to hurt me. I can see that now. But, sometimes still, I think ... why me?”

She couldn’t blame him for self-pity. She blamed Audra Welborne for exposing Marjorie’s secret. If not for her, the secret would be ashes scattered to the wind, silent as a field of flowers.

“Soooooo.”

She heard impatience in his tone. She had no words.

“Ahhhh. Am I spinning my wheels here?”

She drew in a breath. “Do you mean, are you wasting your time?”

“Am I?”

There would be no quick words of encouragement. She could only see the shadow cast across their future. “Daniel,” she said, pulling together her thoughts. “It would be better if he never knew what we know.”

He didn’t respond right away. “I’ll give that some thought.”

They didn’t argue. It became clear, they disagreed. Austin believed that there would come a “right time.” He’d rather Daniel heard from him the details of his ancestry.

That’s where they left it—in the shadows—when they said good night.

Every few days, he called. They talked about the mundane and the serious; her fears, and his. Their need to be apart; their yearning to be whole again. A family.

Near the close of one of their conversations, he asked a question she wouldn’t have anticipated: Had she seen the boy called “Flash?” He meant—at the house with Daniel. Searching her memory, she told Austin she hadn’t seen Flash at all for several weeks at least.

He said that was good. He’d told Daniel to “steer clear” of that one.

Unusual, Jenny thought. Austin would normally ‘steer clear’ of Daniel’s tiffs with cousins and friends, maintaining that boys should “fight their own battles;” good growing-up experience. He would step in were physical harm being done.

“What has Flash done?” Jenny asked, concern in her mind and her voice.

“Ahhhh, Dan asked me not to tell you,” Austin responded, hesitantly. “Rich thinks I should tell you, so does Al.”

Jenny had been sitting upright in her bed. Alerted, she stood, blood gushing to her brain; “Sooooo, tell me.”

Austin’s story meandered back into the summer, before the school year had commenced, to a day when Rich swung by the house on his way to the station. Smoke was curling from the tree house. And Rich being Rich, went to investigate. What he’d found was his boys, Flash and Daniel smoking pot.

“Ohhh!” A scene he’d described was the last thing she would have expected. Air was sucked from the room. There had been rumblings in the neighborhood, at the shop, on reservation: Drugs were everywhere. Daniel wouldn’t, she believed. The scouts had programs, warning of addiction. A scout’s code of conduct had been Daniel’s code. “I ... can’t believe.” She trusted Daniel. Betrayal, a crushing blow.

“I was disappointed in Dan when Rich called,” Austin confided. “We got the boys together, Flash included; Rich played tough cop, I played partner. If you know what I mean?”

“Nnnn oooo,” Jenny stammered, “I don’t know what you mean.”

“You had to be there,” Austin chuckled grimly. “The outcome being that Flash admitted he’d brought the stuff ... dared the others to try it. Boys being curious, they did.”

Jenny felt sick. Drugs. Pot, she’d been told, had a sweet, enticing taste and smell, like alcohol. Daniel knew what drugs had done to the Iroquois. With his own eyes, he’d seen young and old, spaced out and pitiful. They’d talked about the degradation. And Gramps had made his views known. Why?

“It seems,” Austin continued, Flash is a small-time dealer. Rich uncovered that from the guys in the task force. They’d been watching Flashes’ contacts.

“He’s so young,” Jenny observed, her body trembling with dismay.

“Yeah. In this dirty business, Young is an advantage. Juveniles get off too easy.” A silence while he gauged her state of mind.

Her mind remained in a state of panic and confusion.

“I think we threw a scare into the boys. Pot’s illegal, criminal. They could be incarcerated. We let them know that using won’t be tolerated by any of us.”

He meant the Tracys and himself, assuming she agreed. Her concern was Daniel’s well-being. Where had she been when they were using pot? Guilt. Daniel’s troubles were her troubles. “I’m so glad you told me, she said, at last, “I’ll be more watchful from now on.”

“Good.” For him, that subject was closed. “Al tells me not confiding in you is a bad practice,” he went on, shifting to a different track. “That’s something I have to work on.”

Shaken though she was, she thought she caught his meaning, if not every word. “You want to come home because of him.” Daniel’s welfare hadn’t left the top tier of her thoughts.

The silence was long and penetrating. She’d wounded him—a sword that couldn’t be withdrawn. He had to answer.

“He’s one reason,” Stressing each word, Austin admitted. “You and me ... I gotta make it right between us. I can’t do that with me here and you there.”

Simple, direct, disarming. Painfully cautious, Jenny couldn’t respond.

After a moment, he asked, “Still there?”

No words could describe the awful confusion she felt. “I have to think about this ... all of this,” She answered, adding, “It’s right that I should know.”

Sunday morning, they were finishing a breakfast of pancakes and sausage, when a call came in. Daniel swallowed. She gave him a nod, a silent consent. He pushed back his chair from the table, dashed for the kitchen extension.

“Oh! ... Hi, Grandma Lita,” he said, as the caller identified. “I thought you were Dad.” He flushed, amended his choice of words. “I mean, I thought Dad was calling.”

Jenny heard Lita’s laugh—a genuine burst of affection—though not the words she said. Daniel said that school was “cool”, and scouts were “cool”, and he and Mom were doing “okay.” Lita must have asked about Austin. Daniel said that he and his dad were spending the afternoon together.

Jenny had started to clear away the breakfast dishes, when he handed her the phone. “Hi Mom, how nice to hear from you.” She’d written to her mom, pouring out her mixed emotions. Lita responded that Jenny had been on her mind since she’d received her letter.

Stepping around the corner into the hall, in a quiet voice, Jenny said, “I didn’t want you to worry about us.”

“I’m not worried,” Lita responded, with an air of certainty any daughter would appreciate. “I just wanted to touch base ... hear your voice.” She said Jenny had had the house to herself for some months. Giving up that sort of independence would be most difficult. Though in the end, she knew, Jenny would come to a decision that was right for all concerned. And she would support her daughter whatever she decided.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.” They moved on; the health of family members, how things were going at the shop—matter-of-fact, and purposely so. Signing off, Lita said that she and Clay were planning to fly East for Thanksgiving. Did they have an invitation? And by the end of the call, they did.

Thanksgiving. Nearly a year ago on that family holiday had come a turning point in her marriage. A crisis in the life she shared with Austin yet to be resolved. How quickly a year falls into the chambers of our memory, like a haunting melody caught between the folds, once heard, never banished.

Later that morning, Daniel changed into a new polo shirt and khakis for his afternoon with Austin. They’d be going to the planetarium—a new exhibit. “How nice you look,” she observed. Austin would approve. When he came for Daniel, she didn’t always see him. “I’m making a roast for dinner. If I don’t see your dad, why don’t you invite him to eat with us?” Daniel took on a serious expression. She wondered what he knew about his parents she wasn’t aware he knew. Brushing aside conjecture in favor of the practical, she suggested, “Do you think your dad would turn down a home-cooked meal?”

A brightness crossed her son’s expressive face. “I’ll ask him.”

He stepped out on the porch to wait, and bounded down the steps when Austin’s car turned into the driveway: a shiny, blue-gray company car. The engine pinged a new-car song.

Watching them drive away, she waved from the window. The same tug at her heart, stir of excitement she’d felt the first time she met him. In the years they’d been together, that thrill had yet to wane.

An impulse, inviting him to dinner. He may have other plans, or he could say that he had other plans. The last time they talked, it didn’t go well. It never went well when they looked ahead: How would he manage his connections with Drew’s sisters? How could she curtail her involvement with the clan? There were no easy answers.

Close to five—sooner than expected—a new-car ping returned to the driveway, idled for a moment before coming to a stop. Her heart came to a stop; she didn’t breathe until Daniel burst in through the screen door.

“I asked him, Mom. He’s staying.”

Austin followed close behind. The stir became a whirlwind when their eyes met. She managed a, “Welcome.”

“Thanks for the invitation.” Seeming ill at ease, he shifted footing on the doormat, leaned against the door frame, while Daniel, sensing tension, launched into a young-man’s technical description of the exhibit they’d seen. Words Daniel added to his vocabulary accumulated with the inches he added to height.

Jenny checked the roast—nearly done. “I’m glad you had a good time ... and educational too.” She glanced at Austin. A glance he returned without comment.

“It was awesome, Mom,” Daniel affirmed, looking back and forth between them for a clue, and finding none. “I gotta go call Robbie.” Taking the steps two at a time, he headed for the second floor extension, leaving them alone.

Austin straightened. “Mind if I make a drink?”

“Please, help yourself.” He knew the top shelf where the makings were kept.

He took a glass and bourbon from the cupboard before going to the fridge for ice. She stepped aside while he drew water from the tap. They came close, careful not to touch. A dance of distance.

He stepped aside, standing by the counter, while she returned to rinsing green beans. “This past week,” he began, “I called my attorney.” Reaching across in front of her, he took a green bean, snapped it in his fingers and flipped it into his mouth. “Mmmmm, ummm, forgot how good these taste fresh from the garden,” he observed, taking another.

The beans were frozen from spring harvest. “It was a good year for beans,” she remarked, matter-of-factly. Why had he called his attorney? Drying her hands on a towel, her heart raced, she trembled.

“I told him … you and I were working towards getting back together.” He studied her. “He wished me well ... us well.”

It had been some weeks since she’d been in contact with Sam and Lillie. They would urge caution. But since he’d taken this step, was there reason to hope he wanted things to work out? A look crossed her face.

“You’re pleased,” he concluded.

They’d drifted close enough to touch, the pull irresistible. She turned, facing him. “I’m … more hopeful.”

He reached out, she closed her eyes anticipating—the sweep of his arms; his hand stroking her hair. It didn’t happen.

He stepped back, palms up, as though fending off temptation. “Bad timing,” he mumbled, stepping back into the dining room. “Dan’l,” he called out. “Set the table ... you and me.”

At the table during dinner, Austin and Daniel carried on a two-way conversation. The old company car had logged so many miles back and forth to State College, as well as business travel, this and that went wrong. The car was in the shop too often. A man on the road as much as he was, Austin said, had to have reliable transportation. Corporate agreed, a business expense.

Daniel said if he could have a car, he’d choose a Mustang or a T-Bird. His choices launched a spirited debate: the merits of Ford versus Chevrolet; older models versus new ones, sporty versus classic.

When their plates were empty, Austin said he’d be leaving in the morning for refineries in New Jersey. Now that he had his MBA, Bates Welborne had expanded his assignments. He’d be heading the team introducing new product lines. Corporate had given him more responsibilities, and the salary increase he felt he deserved. In his work life, things were going well.

Their eyes kept meeting, holding, one or the other looking away, aware of their son’s sensitivities.

Austin pushed away from the table. “Dinner was great, awesome,” he corrected, using Daniel‘s adjective. She said, dessert was apple cake. He said, he knew from the spicy aroma. She acquiesced; Daniel beamed. They cleared the table. She washed; Austin dried; Daniel put away.

After apple cake with whipped cream and a lingering over coffee, Austin said he had an early morning. The look of contentment their son had worn all evening left his face. His dad took him by the shoulder. “Next time, dinner’s on me. Okay?” He shifted his eyes to her face.

“Cool! Okay, Mom?”

She made a sign of affirmation. They suffered the usual awkward moment as Austin was about to leave.

“Give your Mom and me a minute, will you, son.”

“I’ll sit in your new car,” Daniel responded, bounding down the back steps.

“Yeah, you break it in for me,” Austin called out after him.

Uneasy, Jenny stood against the counter. Dinner had been pleasant, without the usual conflict. Now, tension filled the air. Austin stood by the door, his hand on the latch, his eyes fixed on the mat. Seconds seemed like hours.

“In my younger days,” he said, a wistful chuckle in his voice, “I’d have slung you over my shoulder and dragged you back to my cave.” He looked into her face. “I don’t do that anymore … ’still want to.”

His cave! Erotic images she couldn’t avoid leaped into her head. The pull seized her body. Gripping the counter, she turned away.

“What I mean is ... I have strong feelings for you, Jenny. Yeah, we have some differences,” he acknowledged. “Please, give me a chance to prove I’m not the same man who walked out on you and our son.” Hesitating, he looked away, swung open the door. “Okay for me to call?”

She turned to him. “Yes, call.”

The confident salute he gave as he stepped out on the porch conflicted with plodding footsteps walking away. Another week-long trip to strange surroundings—the road warrior’s fate. She called up forces more powerful than he was. “Keep him safe.”

Thursday night he called, a “productive” week behind; response to Bates Welborne’s new-products line “enthusiastic.” After a breakfast meeting, he’d be heading home with new contacts and inquiries.

Past experience told Jenny success meant more time on the road, a stronger probability of a new position in a new place. Austin knew the possibilities. He wouldn’t “jinx” a new position, speculating before a solid offer. “I’m happy things went well,” she said, reservations aside.

“And how did your week go?” he asked, very much up-beat.

“The usual. Working, looking after the house and Daniel.” She laughed. “He looks after me, I think.”

Austin chuckled. “Yeah, he does that, all right.” Tension hung in the silence. “Does he come to the shop after school?”

The shop, from inception, a source of conflict. Attitude wouldn’t change as suddenly as the weather. Daniel would have told his dad his routine; she wouldn’t deny it. “Yes, he helps us out, and he does other things that boys do.”

“He has lots of energy.”

Like you, she thought. “Mmmm.” His energy merging with hers. His question lacked the hostile tone mere mention of the shop had prompted in the past. “The shop is doing very well.”

“It takes a great deal of your time.”

“Time well spent,” Jenny responded confidently.

“Yeah.” The silence was thoughtful. “Al tells me I need to get in touch with my feelings about the shop.” He drew a breath, exhaled slowly. “I think my feelings have changed. I don’t know why that happened. I’m more open to the idea.”

“Open?”

“I admitted, deep down, the shop was a threat.” He paused, took thoughtful breath. “Al says that’s a common reaction for a control freak.” He laughed. “Al didn’t say control freak. He said a guy with a ‘controlling personality’, like me.”

“I didn’t know you felt threatened.”

“Neither did I ... not then, when we were fighting all the time. ... I had to take a step back. Now I see things in a different light.”

Step back? A step forward. “Does this mean we won’t fight about the shop anymore?”

“Hey!” He laughed. “A tiger doesn’t change his spots overnight. But, yeah, it could mean that.”

Jenny felt warmth as though the sun broke through the clouds on a dull, gray day, except… “Are you threatened by the clan?”

A pause before he confided. “I don’t know what goes on up there at Indian Lake … the reservation. What I’ve heard … Yeah, it’s a threat.” He hesitated, went on. “Al says,’ we fear the unknown.’”

He’d refused her invitations. “Tribal gatherings are open to the public.”

“Is there,” he hesitated, “a boat involved?”

Austin’s phobia. “There doesn’t have to be,” she assured. “Daniel would like you to see the bark canoe he and his cousins built.”

“As long as my feet stay in dry dock,” he commented, chuckling. “I’d sure like to see a bark canoe my son built with his cousins.”

There would be another gathering of the clans in early spring—Corn Planting. She didn’t want to look ahead with things unsettled.

“Soooo. Will I be seeing you this weekend?”

He was seeing Daniel Saturday while she was working. “I don’t know.”

“Do you want to see me?”

“I don’t know.” Seeing him was painful the way things stood.

“My weekend is full anyway.”

She’d hurt him. “Austin.”

“Yeah.”

“I will always love you.”

“Whoa! That sounds final.”

“I didn’t mean it to sound final.”

“Right. We’ll let it go.” He yawned. “I’ve got an early morning.”

As though she’d fallen from a warm bed into an ice-cold pit, she dropped the receiver into its cradle.

Nagging, the ache that followed that phone call—an ache that plagued awake or sleeping. An ache that wouldn’t leave until she came to a decision. Could she live with him again as wife, lover, friend, accepting him the way he was? Accepting what it meant to be a corporate wife. She would always love him. Letting him go, that she couldn’t face.

There were limits to his patience.

She’d done the flowers for a wedding Saturday when Austin had seen Daniel. Through Daniel’s replay of his visit with his dad, she learned that Sunday Austin had a game date with some customers—the Steelers were in town. Monday he’d be in his office “catching up” before traveling to Ohio for the remainder of the week.

True to his word, he wouldn’t press for a decision. She felt pressured by their situation. Ten long months of separation, with only the briefest reunions, passionate or tragic as they were. All those months she’d yearned for him to come home. Now he wanted to come home; she’d put him off, reluctant to trust radical changes she perceived in him. Or, was she afraid of being hurt, more than she was hurting now. And there was Daniel, needing his dad.

Sunday night, the unsettled nature of their lives wouldn’t let her rest. She tossed and turned, struggling with conflicting heart and mind. Through his sessions with Dr. Hustead, it seemed Austin had experienced a mellowing. He’d been willing to discuss their differences with an open mind. Confronted with the day to day realities, could she trust that new-found attitudes would last?

The life she’d built since Austin left had its satisfactions. She’d achieved an independence she hadn’t known for years. She’d come to trust her judgment. Her work, her connections to the clan, facets of a mixed-racial heritage she’d come to treasure. She’d found a path that she could walk—alone.

Mom was right: Independence is most difficult to cede. Must she give up all she’d come to value to have Austin back? Was she strong enough to stand her ground in the face of his ‘controlling personality?’ There could be no peace of mind until she saw the path that they could walk together; an image that eluded throughout the night.