His expression hardened. “It’s best this way, so leave it.”
Margo shrugged to ward off his sudden defensiveness. “Just curious. It’s my job to ask questions.”
“Yeah. About that. No treatment.” His glance traveled the full length of her. “It wouldn’t work.”
“Because I’m a woman?”
She’d hit home with that one. It didn’t surprise her. Most of her male patients resisted that at first.
“Partly.” At least he was honest. “Just forget it. It’s not time.”
That was a normal reaction. Setting off on a journey to face oneself could be the most frightening step in one’s life.
“We’ll take it slow.” She shrugged. “I’ll drive up on the weekends. We can work mornings or afternoons. Whichever you prefer. We’ll just talk and get to know each other.”
She hoped by the end of the month she’d establish trust and a beginning. They’d both know if they wanted to work together.
“You’re here now because of Vinnie. Nothing else.” Determination rang in his voice. “After this you’re gone.”
Margo didn’t argue. It would only serve to strengthen his resistance. She stood and took a step back. “That’s fine – I only…” When she took another step her leg bumped a table. It moved and she was suddenly falling. She grasped at empty space as she struggled to get her feet back under her. Zane jumped forward and grabbed her middle.
“Easy there.”
The hardness had left his voice. His fingers were firm yet gentle as they spanned her waist and pulled her upright. She tried to stand but overcompensated and ended up falling toward him.
“Good grief!” she exclaimed as she pushed away from his chest. Her feet found solid ground, but his hold was creating a new disturbance to her equilibrium. His concern was genuine and Margo found its effect disturbing. “Nice way to make an impression,” she tried to joke.
On her feet now, she stepped away from his grasp and ignored the sudden and unwelcome awareness of the fact that she was attracted to him. But there was more than that. They were doctor and patient. She lifted her gaze to his. “I can help you.”
She could see his expression closing up. Quickly she went on before he could set his decision. “How about this afternoon then? Let me spend it with you. You might change your mind after you know me better.”
As he straightened upright, he muttered under his breath. He raked large fingers through his hair while he stared at the high-beamed ceiling. Suddenly he turned to her.
“No way. You ate and can have coffee. But after that you’re out of my life.” He swept his arm toward the door.
Margo remained immobile. It took every bit of control she possessed to keep her own annoyance at his stubbornness hidden. With a serious expression, she nodded. “That’s fine.”
He stiffened and Margo suspected it was with surprise. Good. Let him see she could be agreeable. He didn’t know her techniques to get people to open up and talk.
“I’ll fix the coffee.”
The gruffness in his voice almost made her want to smile. He was trying so hard to appear callous. She suspected it wasn’t his true nature at all, especially after seeing him with the deer yesterday and with his brother today.
While Zane moved into the kitchen and fixed coffee, she studied his features. His movements were fluid, confident. Outwardly he didn’t appear to be troubled. Whatever problems existed were buried deep.
There had to be a way to make Zane accept treatment. She had a feeling he just needed a nudge back into the world and she suspected he was ready. He’d been too active all of his life to continue with this isolation for much longer. She could sense his restlessness, feel the underlying tension.
***
Zane shoved mugs across the counter while he waited for the coffee to brew. He still couldn’t believe he’d let her stay. Of course, Vinnie was here. But still, he should’ve sent them packing. Why hadn’t he? Could it be he was lonelier than he’d believed possible? Was there a place deep inside that was pleased about her presence? There sure shouldn’t be.
Here this strange woman shows up, announces she wants to treat him, and then moves in on his privacy – a privacy that for years he’d guarded with care. Was he crazy? Yeah, maybe after all these months of isolation, he’d finally gone off the deep end. He let loose with a couple of choice oaths.
“Something I said?” Her voice held wariness.
“I must be crazy to let you stay another minute.” Or was he just a sucker for big brown eyes?
“Don’t analyze it. Just accept and relax. Actually, therapy’s very similar to this. We can just talk and develop a working relationship.”
Therapy? Was she serious? He thought about how she’d felt in his arms a moment ago. “You married?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
She swiveled the stool around with her foot. “I’m not good wife material.”
If she wasn’t, he didn’t know what was. “You aren’t a man-hater, are you?”
She laughed at that. “No. My work takes a lot of my time.”
He could relate to that. It had been part of the problem with his ex-wife. Janice had hated his trips to sea with the fleet or the overtime at the office. What she didn’t understand was that the problem was more involved than his long hours of work. He didn’t understand all of the complexities himself.
“You must enjoy Vinnie’s visits. I imagine it’s nice to have someone to talk to besides yourself.”
“Not this time.” He reacted automatically and then realized it wasn’t true. In fact, he had enjoyed the family stories and reminiscing with his brother. Was Vinnie right? Was he ready to rejoin the world? He shifted uneasily.
“Vinnie didn’t bore me if that’s what you think. I enjoyed hearing the tales.”
She sure could smile. Maybe it was just Margo Devaull’s world he wanted to join. He put the canister of coffee away and listened to her voice.
“You see, I don’t have any siblings so stories about their relationships always interest me.”
Siblings? Obviously shrink talk. He tried not to be interested.
“I mean – you and your brother sound like you had a great time growing up together. And you still get along.”
Did they get along? Yes, but they weren’t close anymore. He’d made sure of that.
“I understand you and your mother are close. I imagine she misses you.”
Guilt. Pain. Would they ever go away? He didn’t like to think about how his retreat from society had affected his mother. He knew it hurt, but he couldn’t face her lately, and he wasn’t sure why.
“They miss me.” He couldn’t keep the bitter edge from his voice.
“You sound angry when you say that.”
He shook his head and looked at her. Already he’d told her more than he meant to. Clever. He’d have to watch his step.
She leaned against the counter and cupped her chin in her hand, obviously ready to listen.
He closed his mouth and gripped the handle of his mug. No way would he tell her about the guilt he tried so hard to forget.
Zane left the shade of the thatched hut on the outskirts of the village where they’d landed with supplies. In spite of the hot sun burning his skin through his fatigues, he had to get some air. The stench inside of sweat, smoke, and fear was suffocating.
He’d worked through most of the night, manning the machine gun as the choppers transported men and supplies near Hue. Every muscle in his body ached. His eyes burned as he tried to focus on the Marine who approached.
“Hey, Zanelli. Did you hear the news?”
“What news, man? The only news I want to hear is that we’re leaving this stinking jungle.” He thought of his bunk in Phu Bai.
“That’s it. They’re sending me home,” the Marine yelled.
Home. In spite of the humid heat and the sweat pouring off his brow, Zane shivered. Icy chills traced down his spine as the news sank in. He wanted out
of here, but could he go home? Could he face his mother, Vinnie, and especially Rita?
Zane stared at his hands. His palms were calloused and his fingers long and strong. He’d saved hundreds of lives with these hands. To do so he had to fire at the enemy. He flexed his fingers. These hands could save…and they could kill.
Suddenly Zane wasn’t sure he could face his family. He deserved to be shot for what he did. Enraged, Zane looked past the bamboo fence of the compound. He walked toward the barrier, not caring that he’d cross the perimeter.
“Hey, man. Where you going?” the Marine hollered.
Zane kept walking.
“Zanelli! Get back here.”
Others screamed at him, but he ignored them – until he heard the scurry of their feet as they ran to block his attempt to make the bush. Zane ran. He hit the fence and started to climb, but he couldn’t move. Too many hands grabbed at him.
“The place is booby-trapped with mines.”
“Get back here, man.”
“Let me go!” Zane shouted. He wanted to die.
“Zane?”
Her voice interrupted his memories, but it was her assessing look that brought him back to the present. He’d been silent too long. A question was forming and he could guess what it was. Abruptly he grabbed the coffeepot and poured. “Have your coffee. Vinnie’s outside.”
He could tell she was disappointed, but she smiled and stood. “When you’re through can we talk? I think we should take a few minutes alone and go over our options.”
He started to argue but saw the determined set of her chin. There was only one option as far as he was concerned. He’d make sure she understood. “Fine. I’ll be back.”
***
Before she could answer, he turned and left the room. Margo swung back toward the counter and sipped her coffee. He was planning to send her on her way, but she hadn’t given up hope. She’d seen flickers of response.
All she needed was some time to let him see that she was no threat. If she could get him to open more, his resistance might crumble, at least toward her presence. That was all the start she needed. Zane wanted to talk; he just didn’t want to admit it.
After sitting for a few more minutes, she stretched and went to the back porch and stepped outside. It was a gorgeous day. She should take advantage of the clean air and sunshine. Her glance traveled across the yard to the other buildings. His carvings. Could she talk him into showing her his work?
She started to walk down the steps but paused. A quick glance out front assured her that Zane and Vinnie were occupied. Their heads were bent under the hood of the Bronco, probably checking the oil and water. If she could get a quick look at what he did, she might be able to start up a conversation.
Tall grass brushed against the cuffs of her slacks as she crossed the clearing. The mountain air felt crisp and invigorating, but Margo barely noticed. Her pulse beat at a quicker pace as she hurried toward the larger building, feeling like a trespasser. It crossed her mind to turn back, but determination to find a way to get to Zane spurred her on.
She came to a wall and walked around the corner. There she stopped in surprise. The whole side was a window with a sliding glass door.
More curious than ever now, she stepped up to the glass and peered inside. Margo gasped at the carvings that were everywhere. The three solid walls were lined with shelves and filled with carved wooden figures. They looked like animals, but she couldn’t tell for sure.
What therapy, she thought. In his own manner, he’d found a way to ease the aches inside.
It was her strong belief that creativity was therapeutic, especially in the cases of the men and women she worked with. After involvement in destruction and death, they needed to create and reestablish in their minds a sense of beauty. It was why she wanted to develop her retreat. For a long time it had been a dream of hers to form a center where her patients could visit or stay if they needed to and learn the fine arts – see the beauty of nature.
Margo headed back to the cabin. She hardly noticed the wildflowers or the hum of insects. Her mind raced as she threaded her way through the tall grass. There was definitely hope for Zane. He’d made a lot of progress on his own. As she walked, her mind churned with ideas of how to approach him about his work. Maybe she could convince him to teach carving. There were many service organizations that could use volunteers. Meeting people wasn’t so threatening if you had something to offer them. It could be a way to ease his return to the city and into the mainstream.
Back inside, Margo settled onto her stool to finish her coffee. The old song she’d heard that morning at the inn came back to mind and she quietly began to sing. “Forget mistakes of yesterday. We’ll dream another dream. Tomorrow discover truth and promise.”
She loved the music from the sixties. The emotion of the social issues of that time sounded in the melody.
“On the tides of destination, friends we’ll be forever.”
“Stop that!”
The sharp command boomed like a shot. Margo spun around. Her empty mug slipped from her fingers and crashed with a frightening clatter on the floor. Zane stood by the bar, his face ashen and his fists clenching and unclenching. Wild fury sparked from cobalt eyes.
“What?” Margo tried to get the word out over the sudden lump of concern in her throat. What was wrong? He took a step toward her. She backed up against the counter, never taking her eyes from him.
“Don’t ever sing that song in here again,” he growled.
What was wrong with “Forever Friends”? Had it triggered an attack of posttraumatic stress disorder? The psychologist in her swung into gear, erasing the fear. “I won’t sing it anymore,” she promised in a steady voice.
His chest heaved. Slowly, she eased off the stool and made her way down the counter toward him. “I don’t want to do anything to disturb you,” she soothed, much the same way he’d done to the deer yesterday. “You’re obviously upset. So let’s sit down and talk this out. I just want to help.”
“No!” he exploded and came at her. In the last split second, he shifted direction and tore further into the kitchen. With a sweep of his arm he pushed the dishes onto the floor. The noise echoed in the deathly still room.
Margo didn’t move. Her glance remained glued to Zane in readiness. Would he get violent toward her? Where was Vinnie? Had he heard the noise, and would he charge in and complicate the situation?
“I don’t want your help,” Zane told her between huge gulps of breath. “Just get out of here and never come back.”
Margo knew better than to argue. Zane was in no condition to reason with. Slowly she stepped toward him. “No problem,” she assured him. She didn’t want him to feel trapped.
He nodded with a grunt. Then for a brief instant, pain flickered across his face. Without warning he charged past her and headed toward the back porch. The heavy wooden door bounced off the wall as he slammed through it.
Not thinking, but reacting to his pain, Margo took off after him. “Zane! Wait!”
Chapter 5
“Don’t run away from this,” she called after his retreating back.
He didn’t respond or even hesitate but hurried to his workshop. Even from this distance, she could see he was upset as he rounded the corner of the building. Not surprising, she thought, in light of what had just happened in the kitchen.
She approached the building. They had to discuss this before he retreated into his isolated world. She heard the glass door slide shut.
It was too late.
“Zane,” she called.
Hammering sounded through the walls. Margo fought the frustration. She wasn’t about to give in so easily; not after what she’d just witnessed. She started toward the corner where Zane had disappeared.
“Margo!”
Vinnie’s shout brought her up short. She turned to see Zane’s brother clamoring down the steps. It was just what she didn’t need.
“What happened? I heard the racket. There’re dishes all
over the place.”
Instead of responding, Margo headed toward Vinnie. The tall grass brushed against her legs until she made it to a clearing. Out of breath and panting, Vinnie approached and stopped.
“You all right? Where’s Zane?”
Briefly she told him what had happened. “Has he done this before?”
“Never here.” Vinnie shook his head and clenched his fists. “I’d better go talk to him.”
“But he has done this?”
“Not exactly. I mean…” He paused, clearly distressed.
Margo needed to know more information, but she’d need to hear it from Zane. “You can tell me later. I think it’s best if I talk with him. This isn’t unusual…”
Vinnie grabbed her shoulder. Anger and frustration radiated. “No. You go back to the cabin and wait. It’s time now for me and Zane.”
His fingers tightened and a determined light glittered in his blue eyes – so like Zane’s yet so different. Margo stepped back.
“I have to disagree with you.” Her voice soothed. “Zane needs a professional now – not hassles with a concerned brother. I know you love him and are terribly worried, but the best thing you can do is to let me deal with him.”
Vinnie grimaced.
Margo placed her hand on Vinnie’s forearm and squeezed. “It’s what you hired me to do. I’m trained for this.”
For seconds Vinnie stared. Margo could sense the war of emotions. Vinnie loved his brother, but his patience had run out. Finally, he took a deep breath and dropped his hands. “Give me an hour alone.”
“I can’t do that. It would be better if you gave me an hour alone.”
After a quick glance of encouragement, Margo turned and headed for the workshop. Behind her, Vinnie rustled through the grass.
What had caused such an explosion? Her singing? Odd. But then she’d learned not to be surprised by a patient’s reaction. The mind could play devious tricks. “I’ll get to the bottom of this yet,” she muttered.
Isolation and loneliness were issues here. Also her presence. It had been months since he’d been around a woman. But that had to be only part of it. It was now obvious that something traumatic had happened to Zane and music figured into it. Interesting.
Love's Miracles Page 6