Authors: Sandra Leesmith
She
opened her eyes. Blackness yawned below her. The rope moved, and in slow motion
she brought her hand up until the thick strands were in her grasp.
“I’ve
got it. I’ve got it now.”
“Good.
Pull it up until you feel the knot.”
She
gave it a tug.
“Not
too fast. Just ease it carefully. I’ll pull on the slack.”
In
slow motion, she drew the rope past her chest, careful not to let it slip from
her sweat-dampened fingers. The knot stopped her progress. She called up to
Zane, “I have the knot. Now what?”
“I
made a loop below the knot. Do you think you can swing it over your head and
down around your waist?”
“I
don’t know if I can bend forward.” Her heart pounded until she thought her head
might explode with the rush of blood.
“Don’t
move forward. How about under your arms, around your armpits?”
“I’ll
try,” she told him. She knew what she needed to do. If she wasn’t tied securely
to the rope, he wouldn’t dare lift her. Her hold might loosen, and she
shuddered at the thought. “I’ve got it around my head.”
“Hold
on to the rope and lean forward to slip it under your arms. Do it fast in case
you slip. I want the rope around you.”
Margo
leaned her head against the rock and took a deep breath. She could feel the
rough hairs of the rope scratch the skin of her neck. She closed her eyes and
said every prayer she could think of.
“Don’t
think about what could happen,” he advised her. “Just keep picturing yourself
up here with me.”
Margo
did what he said. She envisioned his strong arms around her and felt his warm
body next to hers. It helped.
“Here
goes!” she shouted.
She
gripped the rope and leaned forward. Rocks slid out from under her. The rope
slid in place just in time to catch her weight. Margo screamed as she swung
into empty space.
“Margo?”
Panic sounded in Zane’s voice.
Her
body crashed against the rock and loosened more shale. “I’m on the rope!” she
hollered. “Pull me up.”
Jerks
on the line alerted her to his efforts. She tried to help by bracing her feet
against the rock. It only loosened and tumbled with a crashing roar.
She
couldn’t tell how fast he pulled her. She only felt the bumps with each
strained tug.
“You’re
almost here.” His voice sounded close. “When I pull you up, don’t grab me. Roll
onto your stomach and crawl until we’re clear of the ledge.”
She
could see him now. She wanted to reach out to him but he kept backing away.
“Zane.”
“You’re
doing fine. Just keep coming.”
Rocks
didn’t tumble anymore. The rope didn’t pull. Suddenly the ground felt solid and
level. She crawled another foot and arms wrapped around her.
He
pulled her into his lap and cradled her head against his shoulder while he
carefully loosened the rope. “You’re safe. You scared ten years off of my
life.”
She
couldn’t talk. She burrowed into his embrace and let relief pour forth, but she
couldn’t even cry. Her body felt like mush as waves of dizziness overwhelmed
her. She clutched at his broad shoulders and held him tight as he searched her
body for broken bones. In spite of the comfort of his arms around her, she did
flinch when he touched the sore spots.
“Doesn’t
feel like anything’s broken,” he said after apologizing for hurting her. “What
do you think?”
“I
can’t tell. I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck.” She loosened her hold. “Not
to mention the state of my nervous system.”
Carefully
he held her, bending to brush his lips across her temple. “Don’t ever do that
again,” he murmured into her hair.
***
When
Margo awoke she didn’t know how late it was. Stars still shone, so morning
obviously hadn’t arrived. Lights were on below in the main part of the house.
She stretched stiff legs across the water bed and let the wave action from the
movement massage the aches.
She
rolled onto her stomach, wincing slightly when her weight shifted across the
large bruise on her side. Her head burrowed into the feather pillow. Zane’s
pillow. She could smell his maleness all around her, making her feel secure.
The
image of him when he brought her back to the cabin made her smile. He’d been so
careful, half carrying her the whole way and then ministering to her cuts and
bruises. A hot shower had not only cleaned off the dirt but had also soothed
aching muscles.
Fortunately
there were no serious injuries, and Margo had decided to drive back to the inn.
Zane refused to allow her to even consider it. She had to admit the idea of
shifting and steering the Jeep with her sore muscles didn’t exactly appeal to
her. Finally, a touch of humor convinced her.
“It’s
black as pitch out here and the night life’s active,” he told her.
“Night
life? Active?” Images flashed of the nature programs she’d seen on television,
her only contact with the great outdoors.
“Predators,
you know. Coyotes. Mountain lions. Bobcats. Evening’s their dinnertime.”
That
had done it. She was staying. “You’ve got yourself a guest,” she’d said with a
chuckle.
Smiling
at the memory, Margo rolled to her good side. The oversize T-shirt Zane had
lent her caught around her waist, but she didn’t bother to straighten it. She
closed her eyes, glad she had decided to stay. This was infinitely better than
the treacherous road, especially at night. She curled against the pillow and
let herself enjoy the intimacy of being there.
She
thought she’d drop off to sleep again, but she lay wide awake and aware of
Zane. Finally, stiff and sore, she climbed out of bed and stood by the railing
to look down, wondering if he was asleep on the couch. He wasn’t there.
“Zane,”
she called.
No
answer.
She
started to head for the stairs when the lights suddenly went out. Margo froze,
stunned for brief seconds before she realized it was pitch black in the house.
“Zane!”
Silence.
Terrifying, dark silence.
She
hollered again.
***
Zane
was almost to the cabin when he heard it. His blood turned to ice. How many
times had he heard that sound of terror in the jungles of Nam? This time it was
Margo. Zane ran, his adrenaline pumping hard. What had happened?
He
slammed through the back door, not bothering to shut it, and charged up the stairs
where he’d left her in the loft.
“I’m
coming! What’s wrong? Talk to me so I can find you.”
Her
unsteady breathing echoed in the room as he felt along the bed.
“Where
are you?”
She
suddenly flung herself against him. He wrapped his arms around her and held
tight, breathing in the reassuring scent of her sleep-warmed body. Her frame
vibrated with tremors, and he could feel her fight to control them. He soothed
his hands along her back to help with her struggle.
“What
is it? What’s the matter?”
“The
lights,” she managed to mutter.
“I
turned the generator off. That’s all.” Relief poured into him. It was just a
nightmare; he knew about those terrors.
She
tightened her arms around his neck. “Don’t leave me.”
“I
can go turn it back on.”
“No.
Don’t leave. Not when it’s dark.”
A
surge of tenderness welled up in him. He fought it for a moment until he heard
the catch in her breath. Then he gave in to it and lifted her into his arms to
curve her next to his chest. With easy strides, he carried her downstairs. Her
body tensed, but she didn’t protest.
“I’m
taking you downstairs,” he murmured as he carefully made his way. “There’s wood
set in the fireplace.”
He
started to set her on the couch so he could light the fire, but she shivered
against him. Instead of putting her down, he knelt on the hearth and rested her
on his bent knee. Single-handedly he struck a match and leaned toward the
wadded-up papers.
“Now
we’ll have light and heat,” he assured her.
She
tucked her head into the curve of his neck. The action crumbled a few more
stones from the wall around his heart. He pressed her close, wanting to comfort,
yet enjoying the feel of her as well.
When
the flames flickered, she pulled away from him. He saw the doubt in her eyes,
but there was also a flicker of longing. He’d have to let her leave his arms,
but it helped to know she didn’t really want to.
She
stepped out of his lap and sat on the couch. Zane watched the flames, trying to
replace her warmth with that of the fire until he finally gave up and went to
the other end of the couch. He heard her take a deep breath and wondered how a
woman as gutsy as she was could be afraid of the dark. But he didn’t ask; he
knew what it was like to have secrets.
The
fire crackled and lit up a small area in front of the couch. Around them
shadows danced in the silence until Margo spoke.
“I’m
sorry about the panic scene back there. I work hard to control my ridiculous
phobia.”
“You
don’t have to apologize to me.” Being frightened of the dark couldn’t compare
to his fears.
“I
know I don’t need to rationalize, but can you imagine how demoralizing it is to
be a psychologist and still have that kind of reaction?”
“You’re
human too.”
Her
glance held his as she read his understanding. He let her see the caring too.
“Can
you tell me about it? What happened to make you so afraid?”
She
took a deep breath and shuddered.
“It
helps to talk.”
“That’s
supposed to by my line.”
“Take
your own advice then.” He reached across the couch and covered her hand with
his. She didn’t seem to mind the gesture, or maybe she was still too upset to
notice.
“It
goes back a long way.” She turned over his hand and began to absently trace the
lines of his palm.
Anxious
now to know everything about her, he gestured to the fire and said, “We don’t
have any pressing engagements.”
“Aren’t
you tired?”
How
could he even think of sleep with her sitting there, tousled from bed and
hurting? “I don’t think either of us will get much sleep now.”
Her
glance flew to his. He saw the awareness flicker before she pulled her hand
from his and sank deeper into the cushions. For several more seconds she stared
at the fire. When she started speaking her voice was low and distant as if
she’d traveled back in time.
“Before
I was born my father was a fighter pilot in the Air Force. He was shot down in
North Korea during the Korean War.”
Zane
wasn’t sure he wanted to hear this.
“He
was taken prisoner, but they didn’t have the supplies or personnel to properly
treat his wounds. When he came home he was crippled and deformed.” She closed
her eyes as if imagining the sight. Zane didn’t even try.
“He
was convinced my mother couldn’t love him. He was ugly to look at even after
plastic surgery. But she did care; she had me, hoping my birth would prove it.”
“Did
his deformities affect you?”
“He
loved me. I thought the world revolved around him. I didn’t know he was
deformed.” She smiled then and Zane relaxed. “I was Daddy’s little girl. I used
to crawl in his lap and chase away his depression. We’d tell each other stories
and make fantasy plans for the future. We’d both sit for hours and talk and
laugh and dream.” She paused for several minutes. Firelight reflected in a
golden glow off her skin. “It worked too. Until that last year.”
Zane
watched the changes of emotions chase across her features. He could reach out.
Instead, he leaned back and pressed against the cushions of the couch. He
didn’t want to risk the fragile confidence she had in him.
“It
was after I began going to school that things started going downhill. He drank
heavily and sat in dark rooms with the shades pulled shut and the lights off.”
He
stilled when her voice caught.
Don’t lose control
, he thought. This was
a mistake. He didn’t want to hear her personal history; he cared too much.
“When
I came home from school and asked him why he didn’t come visit my classroom
like other dads or why he didn’t ever go outside, he got real quiet, became
withdrawn. My guess is he realized that soon I’d know the truth; know that it
wasn’t normal to have deformed legs and a face made ugly from burns.”
She
paused to take several deep breaths. Zane wanted to get up and walk away from
her. Yet he stayed, drawn to her need, her hurt and pain. Maybe he should
comfort her. He shifted.
“I
guess it scared him that I might grow to despise him. He couldn’t face that
possibility.” Her voice went suddenly cold.
“One
night he was holding me and he just sat there crying and telling me how much he
wanted to die. I guess he willed it because it was shortly after that when he…”