Love's Miracles (15 page)

In
the silence, her awareness intensified. She could feel the heat from his body,
hear the catch in his breath, and smell the woods in his clothes. His fingers
tightened. She stared.

Suddenly
their touch flashed in her mind. When she’d fallen last weekend, he’d reached
out for her. Gently and with care he’d set her upright. He was not as unfeeling
as he wanted her to think. Every instinct she possessed insisted she reach out
to this man. He needed her.

Action
might ease the strain. Her tote rested against the counter on the floor where
she’d placed it. His glance followed her movements as she retrieved the
bright-colored bag and hefted it onto the counter. She spread the contents
across the varnished wood.

“These
articles should interest you,” she pointed out, trying to ignore the unexpected
catch in her voice. “And I thought you might like this book. It’s written by a
vet and describes his experiences returning to his prewar life after his tour
of duty.”

Still
no response; only an unnerving stare from fathomless blue eyes. She had to stem
the trickle of annoyance that threatened to creep in. Even his temper would be
an improvement to this silent treatment. She took a deep breath and went on.

“You
might find something in common with your own experiences. If so, write them
down and we can discuss them. Or if any questions occur…”

Her
voice trailed off as the false strain of enthusiasm finally dwindled. It was
time for a new tack. Slowly, so as not to put him on the defensive, she left
the counter and strolled nonchalantly to the couch.

She
could feel the intensity of his glare as he followed her progress. From the way
it unnerved her, she figured he’d perfected it while in the service. It could
have been an effective way to ward off the barrage of ugliness and death.

“This
table is very unique.” She sat down on the sofa and smoothed her palm across
the satin finish. “The burl gives it dimension and individuality.”

He
remained leaning against the counter. The crossed position of his legs pulled
tight the material of his jeans. The red sweatshirt hung baggy across his
stomach. His face also reflected the contrasts, features tight and closed, eyes
alert and wary.

“Someday
I’d like you to show me your work. My guess is you’ve done a lot toward
self-healing by creating beautiful pieces like this.” She gestured toward the
table.

Mention
of his craft finally generated a reaction. He stirred. “Do you honestly believe
you’ll be around long enough for that?” His voice sounded odd, as if the effort
from staying quiet had strained it.

She
ignored his voice and his question. “Vinnie mentioned you carve animals as
well. You must get plenty of models out here so far away from civilization.”
She stood and moved toward the window to peer out at the meadow. “Have you seen
the injured deer?”

She
glanced over her shoulder and saw that he’d followed her movement with his eyes
only. Without waiting for a reply she went on. “I thought about her all week.
It was hard to picture this place when I was struggling through crowded
intersections or fighting traffic.”

In
fact, she had thought often of the meadow and the cabin and how right Zane had
looked in it. He was a rugged man; a part of the outdoors that he claimed as
refuge.

How
long she stared out at the meadow she didn’t know. It seemed like hours. Oddly
enough she didn’t feel uncomfortable with the silence. For those long minutes
it seemed that Zane felt the same way. It was a good sign. It was true that it
was a slow beginning, but there was still hope.

Reluctantly,
Margo moved from the window. She met Zane’s glance and realized he’d just made
an obvious effort to conceal what he’d been thinking. That too was a good sign.
His control was slipping.

Margo
smiled. “I’ll be back around the same time tomorrow. You can read those
articles this afternoon and then we can discuss any questions you might have.”

His
look of surprise pleased her. She could almost hear him say to himself, “That
wasn’t so bad.” Good; let him see she wasn’t a threat.

“Don’t
worry about getting to the book right away. I’ll leave it for you to read
during the week.”

He
was about to protest, but she didn’t wait around to hear it. “Thanks for the
coffee.” She passed through the sliding door and moved onto the porch.

Fresh
mountain air. She took a deep breath. It would be like this on her retreat.
Nature – its quiet serenity would inspire healing. Its beauty would be a garden
for hope. Its challenge would strengthen the weak.

Margo
cast one last glance across the meadow before she stepped down to the Bronco.
She half expected Zane to follow her outside and insist she not come back. The
fact that he didn’t wasn’t a surprise. He had a lot to think about. So did she.

As
the Bronco wound through the redwood giants, Margo realized one thing. She
would work to help Zane with his problems, but the exchange would not be
one-sided. What she would learn about his hideaway retreat would be invaluable
for the establishment of her center on the coast.

The
promising thought boosted her spirits. She’d worked with enough patients over
the years not to expect giant strides of growth in one day. She’d have time.

***

Margo’s
optimism and patience about her progress with Zane were wearing thin. For three
weekends now she’d trekked the route over the coast range to Fort Bragg and
then on the treacherous road to Zane’s place. She was beginning to wonder why.
It didn’t seem to her that she’d made any progress. If so, she would be hard
put to define it.

The
only thing she could say about the meetings was that the silence had produced a
growing awareness of Zane as a man. This was not her usual reaction to a
patient, and one that was becoming uncomfortable. It was the silence, she
supposed. With so little conversation to focus on, there’d only been Zane and
her reactions to him.

To
further complicate matters, she wasn’t sure what to do next. Her source of
publications about the war, veterans, and readjustment had been exhausted. He
never discussed a word. She wasn’t even sure he’d read them. So where did that
leave her?

Annoyed
and ready for a showdown
, she decided. Quickly, she snapped the turquoise
jumpsuit into place and tied her hair back with a matching scarf. After
grabbing her purse and keys, Margo closed her room door and descended the
stairs to the lobby of the inn.

“Morning,
Nan.”

“Off
to the Zanelli place again?”

“You
bet. Have you heard any weather reports?”

Nan’s
brow furrowed. Margo knew the woman wanted to know what drew her to Zane’s
place every single weekend. Her credit card was registered as Dr. Margo
Devaull. The townsfolk probably had developed a number of theories. It would be
interesting to discover the trends of their imagination.

An
affair was no doubt the local consensus, though they must wonder why she never
stayed the night. Normally such an assumption would disturb Margo; in this case
it didn’t. She couldn’t begin to explain why, nor did she think it would be
prudent to try. In any event, it was best to leave the topic alone.

Nan
didn’t push but gave her an update on the weather. “It’s foggy on the coast.
Hot inland.”

Margo
groaned. The thick moisture was treacherous on the narrow highway. But at least
it was cool. By the time she maneuvered the Bronco out of the fog and across
the ruts and holes to Zane’s place, she would be a hot, sticky mess.

“Be
thankful,” Nan advised. “In the fall we’ll have rain again. September starts
our season. It’ll be rough-going on the dirt road.”

She
hoped by then she’d be through. Would another few months crack Zane’s defenses?
It would make things easier for both of them if she could get him out of the
mountains and with Fred at the V.A. Center for daily treatment. Although she
had to admit that once the road perils were behind her she enjoyed the quiet
beauty of Zane’s land.

But
he was too protected there. He’d built his defenses in the security of the
isolated woods. She’d need to get him away to break down those walls. The
summer wasn’t much time, especially considering the small amount of progress
shown so far. Of course she couldn’t know what was going on inside Zane’s head.
She’d been a psychologist long enough to realize that outward appearances were
deceiving.

Nan
interrupted her silent analysis. “Mind if I ask you a question?”

Margo
fished her car keys out of her purse, suspecting what her question would be.

“Are
you working on something out there?”

“You
could say that.” Margo jiggled her keys.

“What
is it? A big, dark secret?”

“No
dark secret.” Margo smiled and hoped it looked nonchalant. “But it’s Zanelli
business. You’ll have to ask them.”

The
resigned look on Nan’s face said it all. They both knew chances of seeing
either brother in the near future were slim. Before any more uncomfortable
questions could come up, Margo headed for the door. “See you this evening. I’ll
be eating in the restaurant as usual.”

“Your
favorite tonight.” Nan conceded to the fact that she wasn’t getting more
information and smiled. “Steamed clams.”

“Great.
I love the way they fix them.”

“It’s
the thyme in the broth. Homemade bread too.”

Margo’s
mouth was already watering. “That gives me something to think about when I face
that road.”

“Be
careful, you hear?”

The
door closed behind her as she headed for the Bronco. She admired the shiny
finish, knowing that as soon as she turned onto Zanelli land the ivory paint
would be covered with dirt. Vinnie had loaned the four-wheel-drive vehicle to
her for use on this case, and she was glad. Her Cutlass would never survive the
conditions of that road.

It
took some time to traverse the few miles up the coast because she had to drive
slowly through the fog. As soon as she turned off Highway 1 and began climbing
up the dirt track, she broke out of the thick moisture and ascended above it.
At the crest of the hill she pulled over for a break and glanced below. It
seemed like the whole earth was covered with a misty blanket.

Looking
down at the shrouded landscape made her feel like she’d broken away from the
pressures of work. Here above the clouds there was only the sun and blue sky to
focus upon. If only she could fly and leave it all behind.

Including
this road
,
she thought as she turned from the view. Too bad she couldn’t fly over it
instead of dealing with the hassle of deep ruts and sharp curves. She told
herself to stop stalling, that today was her showdown with Zane.

The
reminder caused a ripple of excitement. She should be reluctant; the prospect
of a confrontation usually had her nervous and uptight. Her nerves were tight
all right, but not because of that. They always stretched thin when she came to
see Zane. It was the drive, she tried to rationalize, but deep inside she knew
differently.

Zane
intrigued her. More and more, thoughts of him filled her mind and some of the
questions she had weren’t entirely professional. For example, what was going on
in his head when he stared at her with those eyes? Did he sometimes think of
her as a woman?

Margo
climbed back into the Bronco. Those thoughts were normal, she reminded herself.
He’d been isolated for too many years. Many of her patients had developed
crushes, but what disturbed Margo was that at some primal level, the thought of
Zane’s interest piqued her feminine curiosity.

Dangerous
thinking
,
she chided.

She
shifted the gears and began the descent, now knowing every bend and twist by
heart. When she came to the last curve she braked the vehicle and stared at the
cabin.

Zane
stood on the porch, as usual. Today he had on black jeans and a yellow tank top
that showed off his tanned skin. It did nothing to hide the remarkable physical
condition the man was in, something Margo always seemed to notice – and didn’t
want to.

She
pulled up to the side of the house that would shade the car by afternoon. After
dabbing her face with a tissue and running a comb through her hair, she stretched
out of the cramped and hot vehicle.

The
fresh air helped. A breeze tugged at her cotton jumpsuit and lifted the heavy
weight of hair from her neck. She took several deep breaths to try and calm the
annoying tension. Her stomach fluttered as she ascended the steps. As usual,
Zane offered his one concession to civility and held out a tall glass of iced
juice. She thought she saw a glimmer of welcome in his eyes, but supposed it
was wishful thinking on her part when his expression closed up.

“Just
what I need. Thanks.” She took the glass and went to the chaise where she
usually sat. “It never ceases to amaze me how after sitting in a car for hours,
you get out, stretch, and the first thing you want to do is sit down again.”