He didn’t respond, but she knew she had his full attention. Taking a deep breath, she continued. “I’ve told you before that it’s my hunch you saw a lot. I bet you have other symptoms of stress. Nightmares. Restless and irregular sleep patterns. I bet you react to the sound of a chopper flying overhead. Even twenty years later.”
He rubbed the back of his neck and then leaned his head against the wall.
“I bet one of the reasons you’re here is because suddenly it’s gotten too much for you. You don’t want to deal with reminders.”
“And I suppose you have some grand solution?”
His caustic tone didn’t upset her. It was an improvement over the listless one.
“I think you ought to go talk to a psychologist at the V.A. I could give you the name and number of…”
“No way.” He shifted away from her. “I don’t need that crapola.”
“The V.A. has established a track record of success. Group therapy with other vets who shared similar experiences has proven very helpful.”
“That’s not what I heard. I don’t get off on rehashing the past.”
He was closing up on her. Margo decided to take a chance. “Most men suffering from P.T.S.D. harbor a secret; something they did or saw that they can’t face. I don’t know if that’s the case with you. But if it is, you are going to suffer unless you get it out, work through it.”
Before he could react to that, Margo stood. She wanted him to consider before making up his mind. “We’ve talked long enough.” She dusted off her slacks. “I’m going back to the house. Vinnie and I should take off now. I’ll leave a name and number for you to call. Fred will be glad to talk with you.”
He stood with her but didn’t follow her outside. She rounded the corner and paused in the meadow, flexing her stiff muscles as she glanced around. Birds chirped in the distance and a faint hum of insects sounded. Margo glanced across the grassy field to the redwood groves beyond. It was peaceful here away from the roar of traffic and smells of the city. The stress and worry of an overburdened caseload were miles away. Maybe Zane had a point staying isolated from the hassles of modern civilization, she thought as she headed toward the house.
She entered from the back and went on through the living room after she saw that Vinnie was on the front deck. She started to speak, but Zane came up behind her and spoke first.
“Vinnie.” Zane’s voice sounded rough. “You all right?”
Margo stiffened and noticed that Vinnie did also. Carefully she shifted so she could see him. His expression was calm, as if the earlier scene had never occurred, but he held his body stiff and controlled. The stress was still there. He pointed toward the ice pack.
Vinnie lowered his hand to let Zane see. “I’ll live.” His voice sounded wary, unsure.
A movement twitched at the corners of Zane’s mouth. Margo wondered if he wanted to smile or maybe cry.
Zane pointed to the black and blue mark on his cheek. “You pack a mean wallop. Used to be I could beat you up.”
“You’re not so tough.”
The banter eased the tension a little, but the silence afterward tightened it up again.
“What did you decide?” Margo finally asked.
Zane’s shoulders lifted as he took a deep breath. Slowly he turned to meet her stare. His expression grew blank as he started to speak. “Sorry about what happened earlier.”
Long moments of silence fell between them as he looked away, hesitating to continue. Margo held her breath, schooling herself to remain silent and patient. With her hand she motioned Vinnie to also. Finally Zane slumped to a sitting position on the step next to Vinnie. His head lowered as he studied his hands.
“You can see now why I can’t go back to the city.”
“No,” Margo said, careful not to make any sudden moves. “What I see is a man who needs help.”
“It won’t do any good.” Resignation sounded in his voice as he shook his head.
“Only if you believe that.” Margo paused to let her words sink in before she continued. “I happen to believe therapy will be good for you.”
A shudder coursed through his large frame. It angered her to see such a powerful man looking so forlorn and beaten. She wanted to demand he get up and fight, but experience had taught her well. She sat quietly instead – waiting. He had to decide on his own.
Finally he spoke. “It’s too soon. I’m not ready.”
Vinnie started to protest, but Margo signaled him to keep quiet. She needed to establish a rapport now, without interference.
“Don’t rush with a decision. You have plenty of time.” Her voice smoothed across the small distance between them. “I’ll leave now, return to the city. You go over the pros and cons this week.”
Protest welled up automatically. “I don’t think…”
Lifting her hand, she interrupted. “Do think. Think about your life – past, present, and future. Are you happy with the situation? Think about what you have and then think about what more you want. We can discuss it next week when I return.”
Before he could respond, she stood and motioned to Vinnie to follow her down the steps. At the bottom she paused, turned, and glanced back at Zane. The look in his eyes stole her breath away. Hungry longing and despair darkened the blue, but in the cobalt depths there glimmered a small ray of hope. Margo swung around and proceeded to the Bronco before he could change his mind.
Chapter 6
Zane watched her walk toward the Bronco. He should be yelling at her to get lost, disappear out of his life. In fact the curses were there and ready. Instead, he issued a half-baked warning. “You’ll just be wasting your time to come back here.”
“It won’t be a waste. You know what you need and I’ll be here to assist.”
Irritated, Zane shifted his weight. He didn’t want to be impressed with what she knew. It was bad enough that she felt sure of herself, but what really irked him was the way her voice soothed the jagged edges of his apprehension.
Reluctantly he followed them to the Bronco and tried one more tactic. “This road’s rough to be traveling alone.”
She paused at the car door. “I have to admit the prospects of driving it don’t appeal.”
“Then you should go back to…”
“On the other hand, it’ll do me good to learn to drive in the country.”
For a fleeting instant, he relaxed. Her conversation sounded so normal and inviting. Maybe he did want her to come back. His muscles tensed at the thought. No. It was no use. How could he tell this woman what he’d done? Before he could say anything, she slid into the passenger seat of the Bronco where Vinnie held the door. It slammed shut and Vinnie stared across the space still separating them.
“Sorry about hitting you.”
Zane shrugged.
Vinnie gestured toward the vehicle. “It’ll work out with her.”
“Maybe.” He wasn’t giving in.
“Want me to come with her?”
“No.” He might change his mind by next weekend. If Vinnie wasn’t around he’d have no problem getting rid of the shrink.
“Take care then,” Vinnie said as he walked toward Zane. He hesitated and then threw his arms around his shoulders.
Zane clamped his own around his brother, and held on tight. For a brief second he let the warmth fill him. Then he let go.
“Give her a chance.”
Zane nodded. He took another look at her profile as Vinnie climbed into the Bronco. He might not have much choice.
She had nerve and drive. Recognizing that gave him a feeling of inevitability. If Dr. Margo Devaull got her way – and it appeared she was used to that – he would be under her care whether he wanted it or not.
Zane headed for the porch and took the steps two at a time. At the top he paused and looked back at the Bronco.
The engine roared, then idled as Vinnie warmed it up. Slowly Vinnie steered the heavy-duty machine toward the dirt road. Zane watched them disappear into the forest. The gia
nt trees swallowed the engine’s noise and silence fell around him like a shroud.
Even the hum of insects and the distant birdsong didn’t bring the peace it usually did. He glanced at the blue sky and back to the edge of the forest where ferns swayed in the breeze, inviting him into the stillness: a sanctuary he’d found amid the groves of centuries-old trees. It wouldn’t be there today.
Zane shifted uneasily. Suddenly he wanted them to come back. When they were here, he didn’t think of the past. Their voices drowned out the memories tied to the song that kept spinning over and over in his tired brain. Would he ever forget the refrain?
“Ride across the oceans of experience. Friends we’ll be forever.”Al belted out the chorus, slightly off-key but not lacking in gusto.
“Give it a break already,” Zane shouted above the wind rushing past their ears. They’d taken the top off his electric blue ‘Vette to cruise campus. They wouldn’t attract any good-looking girls if they heard Al singing. “You really know how to massacre a song, man. You sound like a sick cow.”
“Just because you sing like Neil Diamond don’t mean you have to give me a bad time.”
“You’re the one who needs a date tonight,” Zane pointed out as they turned onto the drive that led to the women’s dorms. “Know any of those chicks?”
Al leaned over his door and let out a long wolf whistle. The six women standing under a large pine gave the car an admiring glance but turned their noses up at Al.
Zane laughed as he accelerated down the street with a squeal of tires. He loved to go fast and feel the wind in his hair.
“You’ve got to be subtle, pal. You can’t fall out of the car.”
“You’re such an expert?”
“Right. Keep quiet and watch this.”
Zane cruised to the curb and idled beside two brunettes walking down the sidewalk. He tapped his horn lightly and motioned for them to stop. The half grin on his face could melt butter.
“We’re looking for the activity center.” His glance traveled slowly from their bare legs to their eyes.
Color flooded their cheeks as they stammered through the directions. The appreciation and male admiration in his gaze was genuine, but even if it wasn’t he’d make sure they thought it was.
When they finished he gunned the motor of the car – not too hard but enough to be impressive. He sent them another half smile and a seductive wink. “Thanks. Need a ride somewhere?”
“We’re meeting our boyfriends.” Their obvious disappointment pleased him.
With another squeal of tires, Zane tore off down the road, his eyes peeled for more prospects. “See, it’s easy. First you act helpless. Women love to mother you. Then show them you admire them. Not obvious, but with a look.” He gunned the motor again. “And it doesn’t hurt to impress ‘em.”
By now Al was laughing. “They ate that up.”
“Your turn next.”
“Cut me some slack, man.” Al reached over to turn up the knob of the stereo. “Just ‘cause you have a date with Rita already.”
“I got four tickets. The band that plays ‘Forever Friends,’ man. You gotta get a date.” Zane lifted his hands off the wheel.
Suddenly a bicycle shot out in front of the ‘Vette. Zane grasped the wheel and slammed on the brakes. The bicycle reached the other side safe enough but crashed when it hit the curb.
Al didn’t wait to open his door. He scrambled over the side. Zane followed.
“You all right?” Al hollered.
Zane reached them just as Al turned over the prettiest blonde he’d laid eyes on. Her big blue eyes glanced up at Al. Zane knew his friend was a goner when she batted heavy lashes.
“I’m okay. If you could just help me up.”
Still a little shaken by the near miss, Zane grabbed the bicycle. “You should watch where you’re…”
“Don’t mind Zane.” Al motioned for his friend to shut up. “Do you live near here? Let me help you home.”
After handing the bike over to Al, Zane returned to the ‘Vette shaking his head. Then he grinned. They’d be a foursome after all.
***
In the crowded lobby of the opera house, Margo slid the emerald raincoat over the billowing folds of her black jumpsuit. Silk on silk. The rustling sound pleased her.
“The singing was passable,” Bettina said as she stepped in front of Margo so that she could help with her velvet cape.
Margo obliged by lifting the heavy material across her mother’s shoulders. “Very few sopranos can pull it off with all the low notes required,” Margo said. “I don’t think she managed them very well. She didn’t have the same fire for the low notes as she did for the high.”
“You’re rather critical tonight.”
The French opera, Carmen, was her favorite. Rarely was it performed to perfection. Perhaps if it had been sung well tonight, she would’ve been able to concentrate on it more.
“She was cardboard, standing there with her hand on her hip. Carmen is a Spanish gypsy. She needs to show fire with allure. She must be charming. Remember her last fall? That soprano used her eyes to taunt and tease. She portrayed such tragic stature at the end.”
“I’m glad someone was able to please you.”
“Are you implying I’m difficult?”
Bettina laughed. “I’m not stepping into that trap.”
Margo smiled, knowing she was difficult, especially tonight. “We’d better hurry or we’ll never get a cab. I can hear the rain outside. It must be pouring buckets.”
They jostled through the crowded lobby of the opera house until they finally reached the door. People were streaming through the downpour in a mad scramble for the steady line of taxis that appeared. Margo maneuvered them toward the front of the informal group and when their turn came up, dashed for the next cab.
Cold droplets splashed on her skin, but she really didn’t mind. The air felt refreshing and cool after the stuffy warmth inside. In minutes, after Bettina had slid in beside her, they were on their way to the Bay Bridge.
“I checked your calendar and we both have some free time tomorrow. How about lunch at Fisherman’s Wharf?” Margo said as she watched her mother smooth on her long gloves. She hadn’t brought hers. Even though the temperature stayed pretty much the same all year in the coastal city, she’d been determined to think it was spring and time for more freedom in her dress.
“Why do I get the feeling there’s an ulterior motive?”
“I have a hunch about Zane’s self-imposed isolation.” They approached the on-ramp to the freeway and Margo settled back in her corner of the cab. “I want you to brainstorm with me.”
Bettina tugged the last finger in place and sighed. “Work, work, child. Why are we talking about work? This was supposed to be a time to relax.”
“I did relax during the opera.” And thought about Zane, she silently admitted. She couldn’t get him out of her mind. She glanced across the San Francisco Bay. The lights from the bridge reflected in the choppy waves below. “Lunch is a good time to talk. I’ll be busy in sessions all morning and may not get a chance to see you. In fact, you can call and make reservations.”
Bettina didn’t reply but fixed Margo with a hard stare. Margo braced herself for the scolding.
“Did you hear one word of the opera tonight? Or were you sitting there the whole time working out your cases in your head?”
“Maman.”
“Don’t give me that innocent look. I know you too well.” Bettina crossed her arms while Margo tried not to sigh with impatience. Her mother did know her too well. “Your work. It’s your whole life.”
“It’s yours too,” Margo reminded the woman who spent twice as many hours at the center than she should.
“That’s different. I’ve had my husband and my child. You’ve only had your work.”
The familiar argument usually slid by her, but tonight for some reason her mother’s words touched on a raw spot. “Not every woman needs a man in her life. Or children.” Ma
rgo repeated the words, but they rang hollow.
Bettina sensed the weakening and swept in like a hawk. “You’re a sensitive woman. I can’t believe love and companionship don’t mean anything to you.”
“Sure they do. But only with the right person.”
“What about Fred? You know he would marry you in a minute.”
“I don’t know any such thing. We’re friends. Colleagues. There’s no romance between us.”
“You’re blind. I’ve seen…”
“Nothing,” Margo finished for her. “Besides, he’s not the man I want for a husband.” And that was that. There were no doubts or fantasies about her relationship with Fred. Suddenly Zane’s image came to mind. Margo shifted uneasily. Maybe she was working too hard.
“And how are you going to meet any man if you work all the time?”
“Don’t lecture me about companionship. If it was such a big deal you’d have found someone also.”
“Mon dieu.” Bettina made the sign of the cross.
Margo recognized the gesture as Bettina’s attempt to make her daughter feel guilty about what she’d said. She chuckled, a rich sound that filled the cab. “You’re so quick to give advice, but never listen to it yourself.”
“A trait you’ve inherited, I’m afraid.” Bettina sounded aggrieved. “Maybe you shouldn’t take on this new case. Going all the way to Fort Bragg every weekend will cut away your only spare time.”
Margo stiffened. “You know I have to go.”
“Why, Margo? Because he’s a veteran?”
The barb cut, but Margo ignored it. The fact that her mother had made it had all of her attention. Digs like that came often from Fred, but never before from Bettina. “I thought you shared my concern for vets?”
“You’ve more than atoned for your father, child.”
Margo froze. Her father’s death had spurred her into psychology; both women knew that, but she’d never expected a recrimination from her mother.
“You think that’s what I’m doing?”
“Isn’t it?”
“The man needs help. I can’t let him…”
“You can’t save everyone. There are other psychologists,” Bettina interrupted. “Have you ever considered referring this case to one of them and giving yourself a break?”
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