Authors: Sandra Leesmith
Margo
tried to smile. “We should be able to find a safe subject to discuss. Like
where you’re going for treatment.”
Zane
visibly relaxed as he settled beside her on the blanket. His legs stretched
into the sunlight that was inching across the sand. “Not yet. How about another
topic?”
Margo
shifted so her legs were parallel with his and braced her elbows, ready to soak
up the sun. A water ouzel bounced down the shallow part of the river, feeding
on the insects. Water sparkled like diamonds as it sprayed off the waterfall.
The peace – she needed to absorb its power.
“It’s
so beautiful here. It must have been a good childhood, growing up and being
able to explore this land.”
“We
had good times,” Zane agreed. “Used to spend many weekends hiking the
mountains, and when Vinnie and I were old enough to drive, we’d spend summers
too.”
“Didn’t
you mention earlier your neighbor Al went everywhere with you?”
Zane
tensed slightly, but Margo schooled herself to ignore his reaction.
You’re a
friend now, not his psychologist
, she thought, but she couldn’t stop
wondering why Al wasn’t in the picture. It seemed all mention of him was past
tense.
“Al
used to come. He loved it up here. But he was like my father and came for the hunting.
They didn’t care about the sights or the wildlife unless it was something they
could shoot.”
It
wasn’t the first time Zane had mentioned the conflict between father and son
over the issue of hunting.
Had there been jealousy because Al could please Zane’s
father?
she wondered.
Zane
paused for a moment and then leaned back on his elbows like Margo. “Don’t get
me wrong. We were great friends. Did everything together. Except hunt.”
He
crossed his ankles and shook back the strands of hair that had fallen across
his brow. Margo was tempted to brush them back herself, but dug her fingers
into the sand at the edge of the blanket as she listened.
“Everybody
loved Al. Ma was crazy about him. She still mentions him all the time.”
“You’re
not friends anymore?”
Zane
shook his head, sadness forming in his features. “He’s dead. I guess that’s why
it bothers me to hear Ma go on about him.”
“Some
people need to talk about the deceased. It’s not unhealthy.”
“I
know.” Zane uncrossed his ankles and then crossed them again.
The
psychologist in Margo was itching to know what had happened to Al. Perhaps Zane
suffered from Oedipal jealousy. It was possible that Zane resented the
competition from Al. His friend’s death might have been a relief. Guilt about
that relief might be acting at a preconscious level in Zane.
Drop it
,
she ordered.
His therapist can handle the analysis.
As
if the contemplative silence had made him uncomfortable, Zane shifted upright
and then stood. Abruptly, he changed the conversation. “There’s not much time
left before you have to go. How about another swim?”
Margo
glanced at the sun, disappointed to see how far it had tracked across the sky.
She accepted the hand he offered and hefted herself upright. Zane didn’t let go
of her hand.
She
hesitated, tempted to go into his arms but painfully aware she’d already gone
too far. It seemed much too easy to do. The minute she became caught up in the
drama facing Zane, she’d forgotten that she was a psychologist. She’d become a
woman, responding to need in the age-old manner.
She
took a deep breath and tugged on her hand. “We’d better head back to the
cabin.”
His
fingers tightened as he pulled her closer to his side. “You aren’t frightened,
are you?”
“Not
of you.” She drew away. “But of this.”
“My
touching you?” He twined her fingers in his and pulled them to his mouth.
Gently he kissed the tips. She leaned toward him, a slight sigh escaping her
lips.
“Don’t,”
she whispered.
He
pressed her hand against his chest where his heart pounded in an erratic beat.
“Do you feel that? I want you.”
Her
own heart rate matched his. She wanted him too, the desire powerful. She’d
never been so ruled by passion, nor wanted to be.
She
longed to forget her work; to forget commitments and responsibilities and just
take her heart’s desire. But her past held her too firmly. Still, it took every
ounce of effort she possessed to pull away.
“We
can’t do this, Zane. Not now. I’m going back to the cabin.”
“Margo.”
He reached for her. “Don’t tell me you don’t want this. You’re not my therapist.
You’ve made that clear. So what’s the problem?”
“There’re
state laws regarding relationships between doctors and patients. Two years,
Zane.” She explained the details of the law.
Anger
began to blaze in his eyes. “So who’s going to know? You worried about the
squirrels – the deer?”
Margo
took a deep breath to ward off Zane’s temper. “Vinnie was furious when I
resigned. If he found out, he’d sue.”
“Vinnie
wouldn’t take action without my authority.”
“Exactly
my point. You need to be pulling your family together, not splitting it apart
with class action against me.” Margo searched around for her boots. “I’ll be
gone. You’ll start therapy and forget all about me.”
“And
if I don’t forget you?” Zane placed himself in front of her, prepared to block
the way.
Margo
straightened and braved staring him in the eye. “Don’t do this to me.”
He
glared, and she thought perhaps disgust flared in his eyes. She bent down and
took gulps of air while she fumbled with her boots. Finally they were on and
laced, and she stood and faced him.
His
eyes were hooded, his expression blank. She almost reached out but stopped
herself in time.
“Can
you find your way back alone?”
Margo
nodded before swinging around and heading through the forest. Tears of
frustration slid down her face. Twice she stopped and turned, tempted to go
back, but that wasn’t the answer. Zane need to heal before he needed her.
Blindly she made her way along the trail.
***
Zane
watched her leave. His fists clenched, but he welcomed the anger that tore
through him. It eased the ache in his heart.
Several
curses bounced off the opposite cliff. Deep inside he knew she was right; he
didn’t need to muddy their friendship with the facts of his past. But he also
realized he didn’t want to say good-bye to Dr. Margo Devaull. And what did that
add up to? He had nothing to offer her, so he should let her go; it was best
this way.
No
more sun brightened the cove; it was shaded, still, and deadly quiet. Zane
listened for sounds, half expecting her to return. When they didn’t come he
finally went to the river and slid into the water.
He
scarcely felt the icy chill except to notice relief in the numbing. If only his
brain would lose its power to recall Al. How had Santini come up in the
conversation? Would it help to talk about how close they’d been until Nam?
Zane
swam several laps across the pool, trying to forget how he and Al had argued.
One week in Nam and Zane knew he’d made a mistake enlisting.
The
jet engine of the CH-46 drowned out the zing of bullets as the chopper lifted
off the ground. Zane tugged the last body further into the belly of the
aircraft and out of the line of fire.
Al
pulled off the Marine-issued helmet and wiped at the sweat streaming down his
face. “Man, that was a hot L.Z. Glad you got us out of there.”
Zane
moved toward the dozen bodies they’d just lifted out of combat. “At least we
don’t have it as bad as these poor dudes.”
“Look
at this.” Al dabbed at a gaping hole in somebody’s chest. “This kid don’t look
a day over sixteen.”
Zane
had to agree as he bandaged up another gash. But he and Al were only nineteen
themselves.
By
the time the chopper landed at the base, Zane and Al were drained. They’d
helped the corpsmen as much as they could, but two of the men had died.
Zane
leaned against the chopper and watched the last stretcher loaded into the van.
“Ever get the feeling we made a mistake enlisting?”
“Hell,
no. We’re heroes. I shot ten gooks today.”
Zane
swallowed hard to keep the vomit from coming up. “Killing human beings doesn’t
make you a hero.”
“Oh,
yeah, big shot. You sit on your can all day while I’m out there sweatin’ in the
bush. Don’t tell me that’s heroism.”
“Saving
lives. That’s what heroism is about.”
Zane’s
body sank into the deep pool, his breath making bubbles that traveled upward.
He watched them, aware the life-giving air was disappearing from his body. He
closed his eyes, wondering if he should just stay down here at the bottom and
end it.
The
sand swirled around his ankles as he settled. Images of Margo swirled in his
mind. Suddenly, he planted his feet and pushed upward, breaking the surface in
a whoosh. He inhaled great gulps of air as his body bobbed up and down, buoyant
and free.
Zane
began to stroke his way across the pool. His movements were strong and sure
while his mind steadied.
Forget the past
, he thought.
Bury it and
keep it buried.
Margo was wrong; no good would come from dredging up
long-dead ghosts.
***
The
trail wound up the ridge. Margo had traveled quite a ways before she began to
notice her surroundings – and they didn’t look familiar. She reached the top of
the ridge and stopped, looking at the steep drop-off on the other side.
She
groaned. Manzanita and oak tangled together in a thick cover of brush. There
was no trail through it. This was definitely not the way they’d come.
The
thought of retracing her steps and climbing another ridge did not appeal to
her. Perspiration tickled under the pink shirt and dampened the hair against
her neck. What she’d give for another dive in the pool.
She
dismissed that thought and sat down on a rock to catch her breath. In the
distance, she could see the edge of the fog bank fingering its way through the
valleys and into the mountains from the coast. Fort Bragg would be socked in,
chilly and inviting. She’d cool off back at the inn.
She
sat upright and frowned. Once she left Zanelli land to head for Fort Bragg, all
ties with Zane would be broken. She couldn’t leave it at that.
There’d
been dissension when she’d left him at the pool. There was no need to part with
that between them. She’d wait at the cabin until his return and then wish him a
proper good-bye.
With
that decided, Margo glanced around. She couldn’t be too far off-track. There
must be some landmark she’d recognize. It looked like the trail she’d been on
followed the crest of the ridge for a ways.
Rested
now, she decided to investigate. The trail narrowed with both sides dropping at
dangerous angles. She slowed and suddenly realized where she was – the ridge
where she’d seen the fighter plane.
Her
immediate reaction was to turn around and go back to the pool – to Zane. But
she paused, strangely drawn to the ridge. She had a crazy urge to take another
look at the wreckage.
Before
going out on the treacherous slope, she searched for flashes of shiny metal,
but none were in sight. Gravel tumbled over the edge as she moved forward. She
halted. This was crazy, unnecessary, dangerous.
Nevertheless,
Margo walked farther along the ledge. Light reflected in her eyes. She stopped
when she saw the wreckage hundreds of feet below her, tangled between the limbs
of oak and madrone. Careful not to slip, she sat down on the edge.
She’d
worked with many young men and women who’d been involved in crashes. She’d
heard about the variety of reactions, the bravery and panic. What had her
father done? Why hadn’t he died in the crash? Why hadn’t he died in the P.O.W.
camp? Many P.O.W.s in the Korean camps had just curled up and given up on life.
But he’d wanted to live. So why had he willed his death later?
Zane’s
words came back to her. He hid out here in the wilderness because he didn’t
want to hurt those he loved. In his mind, he was protecting them, sparing them
grief. Was that what her father had done?
He
had loved her and her mother too much and couldn’t bear hurting them. Because
of that he’d thought he’d done the best thing.
Oh,
why were men such fools? Hadn’t her father known she needed his love? Didn’t
Zane realize his family needed him? Margo tucked in her feet and leaned her
head on her bent knees.
Images
of her father mingled with those of Zane. Had she failed the two men? She’d
never been able to help her father no matter how hard she tried. But then she’d
only been a child.
She
was an adult now, but at this moment she felt about as helpless as the child
she’d once been. Zane had reached out, but she’d failed him. She’d allowed
personal emotions to interfere with treatment.