“You don’t look like any bear I’ve ever seen,” he told her.
“I’m prepared. Isn’t that what Smokey’s always telling us?”
The way his glance raked over her figure left her breathless. So much for her attempt to appear non-feminine. His rich chuckle sounded around them. It sent a warm feeling into her heart.
“Looks like we’ll have to break in those boots and take another hike.”
“I’m game. But no more cliffs if you don’t mind.”
Regret showed in his expression. “I wouldn’t knowingly take you anywhere that would cause you harm.”
“I know,” she murmured, touched by his concern. “You had no idea how I’d react. I’m sorry, by the way. I don’t usually let sights like that bother me.”
He reached across the space that separated them and traced her cheek with a work-roughened finger. “Don’t say you’re sorry. If you apologize then I might have to.” His smile reached his eyes. “And I have no regrets about what I did.”
Margo’s breath caught in her throat, trapped by the heat rising within her. So much for her professional composure, her cool façade. She stepped around him and headed for the open glass door.
“No juice today? It’s already more than eighty degrees.”
“It’s here.” He hefted his day pack. “Ready and waiting for your arrival.”
Margo quirked her brow. “Looks like my intuition was correct. You do have another hike planned.” Or had he figured to stay active and thereby safe from too much personal interaction? Sitting on the deck like they had been was too intimate.
“I’ve a surprise to show you.” He gestured toward the forest. “It’s not far. An easy walk. Follow me.”
“Lead onward,” she commented as she climbed down the steps and took up her position several paces behind him. The new boots were bulky, but she had to admit her feet felt comfortable.
Zane led her in the opposite direction from where they’d gone before. They crossed the meadow and were soon swallowed up by the cool shadows. Tall trees, thousands of years old, stood like silent sentries. Shafts of sunlight filtered through the canopy of needles to light the fern-filled path. The thick carpet of needles smelled musty.
“It’s so quiet in here,” Margo whispered. “It reminds me of a cathedral.”
“It gives you the same sense of peace.”
They came to a grove, similar to the one they’d been in before. He helped her to settle in the clover-like oxalis.
“Sit very still and watch what happens.”
Zane spread pieces of bread and scraps of meat on a low platform. “Vinnie and I built this years ago,” he told her as he sat down next to her. They didn’t have long to wait for the show. In minutes, animals began to appear.
“See the squirrels? They know the routine. They want to get their share before the bigger animals arrive.”
Chipmunks scurried onto the platform and bright blue Steller’s jays flew in from nearby limbs. They chattered and squawked when the raccoons showed up and chased them away. They were two black balls of salt and pepper fur, scrambling and snarling for their share of the food.
Margo scooted onto her knees to get a better view. “They’re darling.”
“They look cute, but they’re mean.”
She turned and caught him staring not at the animals but at her. She didn’t move, but her voice grew husky. “Do they always do this?”
“When there’s food.” His own voice rasped a bit. “Or a female.”
She looked away to focus her gaze back on the animals. Awareness sent a slight flush annoyingly up her neck, but she tilted her chin so he wouldn’t see it.
Just then the raccoons stopped scuffling and turned to watch Zane. They stood up on their hind legs, a look of expectation on their masked faces. “The food’s gone, but they’re hoping there’ll be more. That’s why I bring it here in the grove. If I fed them near the house they’d become a real pain in the…” He paused and grinned. “Real pests,” he amended.
Delighted, Margo rocked back on her heels and laughed. “This is like Bambi.”
“Hasn’t anyone taken you to the woods before to see the wild animals? There are parks in the city. Big Basin and Mt. Tamalpais.”
Her smile turned wistful. “Maman used to take me to Tilden Park and we’d feed the ducks.”
“I bet you were a beautiful child,” he murmured.
“She thought so. But then you know how mothers are. They think everything you do is great.” Uncomfortable with the personal trend, Margo decided to turn the tables on him. “What about your mother, Zane? Why don’t you ever see her now?”
Margo watched his expression flicker. “She wouldn’t want to see me,” he said with conviction.
“What makes you say that?” Margo knew it wasn’t true. “I can’t believe a mother wouldn’t want to see her oldest son, especially someone like you.”
“Someone like me.” He cocked his brow. “What would you really know about someone like me?”
She glanced at the serenity of their surroundings and at the platform now bare of food and wildlife. “You’re a gentle and tender man. Any mother would love a son like that.”
He scoffed. “You make me sound like a pansy.”
“It takes a strong man to be sensitive.”
“Strong men can be cruel.”
“Like in the war?”
His fists clenched and she could see his inner struggle, but she persisted. “You can’t count war, Zane. People do what they have to, to survive.”
“Don’t tell me about war and survival. Sometimes you’re better off when you don’t survive.”
“When did you feel that way?”
“I flew in a transport helicopter. It crashed in enemy territory and…”
“Were you injured?” Margo held her breath.
“No.” He shook his head and raised his chin defiantly. He braced his shoulders, daring her to question further.
“What happened?”
He hesitated for endless moments and then suddenly he looked into her eyes. “I hid in the jungle until a reconnaissance patrol found me and got me out.”
Intuition told her he was leaving something out, that he was holding back on her. She persisted. “Is that where you wanted to die?”
He sighed. “We were too busy helping wounded and frightened men – boys really. I didn’t have time for self-pity. It was when I got out and came home that I caved in.”
“You mean because no one seemed to care what you’d been through? They had no idea and besides that, you couldn’t stand to see all the wholesome, self-righteous…” She stopped talking when she saw the muscles in his neck contract as he swallowed the pain.
She understood. It was common among most of her patients. They had gone to war, believing they were doing their patriotic duty for their country, only to return to discover they were not heroes. The hatred, antiwar protests, and oftentimes physical attacks against them demoralized their psyches.
“I don’t want to be around anyone,” he told her. “It’s easier to live by myself. No one to judge or tell me what I should do.”
“Is that what happened? Your family tried to tell you what to do?”
“Not really. Vinnie kept pushing the business at me. I think it was guilt more than concern. He likes running it.”
“But you’re the oldest and he thinks you want the reins.” She guessed Vinnie’s source of guilt.
“He’s welcome to it.” Zane picked at the ropey strands of bark from a nearby fallen log. “I don’t want any part of the corporate hassle. I’m much happier here.”
Margo couldn’t fault his logic. She thought of her friends, their high blood pressure, stress-related health problems, and their fast pace in the rat race. It was beautiful and serene here. A butterfly flitted from flower to flower and bird songs occasionally broke the silence. Maybe Zane had more sense than the rest of them.
“What about your mother, Zane? Did her antiwar activities
upset you?”
“You asked me that before. No. She did what she felt was right.”
“But you felt condemned? Guilty? No support for your actions?”
Zane tilted his head back against the fallen log. A strange laugh came from deep in his throat. It wasn’t a laugh, really, she decided, but a sound from hell. Chills crept along her spine.
“Yeah. I felt all those things. I still do.” He sat upright in a sudden move that momentarily startled her. His eyes looked wild, haunted. “My mother has nothing to do with this. So don’t bring her into it again.”
Margo stared, frightened by the pain and suffering that showed in his face and sounded in his voice. She wasn’t frightened for herself, but for him.
“You have to face…”
He interrupted her, his voice tight and low. “I mean it. Ma’s not part of this.”
“Okay,” Margo agreed. “But you need to talk about those feelings. No matter where they come from or who they involve, they’re obviously affecting you in some way.”
He slammed back against the log in a huff, his eyes shut tight and his breathing deep.
It was time to put on the pressure. “You need to go to a center. They have sessions of group therapy. You can talk to other vets. Men, like you, who’ve been through the same thing.”
“No one’s been through what I have,” he growled.
“They all think that. And you’re right. No one’s experiences are exactly the same. But you share the same reference point.” He was listening, she could tell. Quickly, she went on. “No one else. Not your family. Your friends. None of them can understand what you went through except another vet who was there. You were in a totally foreign situation. You suffered traumatic experiences.”
He began picking at the strands of bark again, peeling the pieces into thin strips. Margo shifted so she could look directly at him.
“I can imagine that there is something you did or something you saw that still bothers you. There was so much violence that most have at least one experience they find hard to live with.”
He didn’t respond, but she could tell by the way he shuttered all expression that she was hitting a raw nerve.
“It could have been a decision you made that you can’t rationalize. It may be the foundation for your reaction to the poor decision last year with the fishing boat.”
He tightened his fist and veins rose under his skin.
“You may have even dismissed the incident, but doubt of your decision-making abilities can be subconsciously undermined.”
“Enough.” Zane bolted to his feet. “You’re guessing in the dark.”
Margo scrambled up and stood in front of him. “You’re right. I’m hypothesizing. That’s all.” He visibly relaxed. “But if any of that makes sense to you, therapy could help.” He didn’t respond, but he hadn’t shut her out either.
“Come to Berkeley. Try out the groups. See if they can help.”
“I don’t need help. I do just fine out here.”
“But you get lonely,” she pointed out.
He focused cerulean eyes on her. “Yes. Your coming here made me realize that.”
His gaze captured hers and she felt like she was drowning in a sea of emotion. Unexpected longing chased away the remnants of their conversation. Margo hardly remembered what it was. Only the two of them mattered now – not the past, not the future, only this moment.
“You’re lonely too. Aren’t you?” Zane reached across the space as if to track his finger along her cheek, but just before he touched her he paused.
She waited, wanting the touch. It occurred to her that Zane could be right. Only how could that be so? She saw her mother almost every day, she had more friends than she could keep up with, and there were all her patients. But there’s no one to love, a tiny voice whispered inside.
Margo stood, suddenly wary. As if he suspected she might flee, Zane blocked her away.
Neither one spoke. They didn’t need to. Margo could read what Zane wanted in the depths of his eyes. He wanted her.
She started to turn, but he grabbed her shoulders. She knew she should pull away, but she stood frozen, unable to move. Zane lowered his head until his breath whispered across her cheek.
“Don’t go.”
Chapter 11
His words held her. She stood for endless minutes, their eyes locked, breath mingling. His loneliness echoed in her own chamber of emptiness.
“I want to kiss you,” he whispered.
“I know that.”
He stepped closer, his thighs bushing against the baggy material of her pants. “Not in anger this time, but because I need to.”
Her breath caught as emotions reared up in battle. Every code of ethics she’d lived and worked by demanded she pull away and put distance between them – professional distance.
Yet the woman in her, the part she evidently hadn’t listened to much before, now demanded her share. There were other things in life besides dedication to a career.
He eased his thumbs over the curves of her shoulders. “But you aren’t going to let me, are you?”
She should voice her protest, but the words stuck in her throat. She couldn’t forget the last time he’d kissed her: the longing, desire, and terrifying confusion. A part of her needed to experience it again.
“It’s all right.” He lifted his head, breaking some of the tension. “I understand how it has to be. I wanted you to know.”
He was stronger than she. If the decision had been left to her she wasn’t sure how it would have gone. Threads of desire still claimed part of her – enough to keep her standing close.
His smile turned ironic. “I think we both have enough anxieties without this.”
“Anxieties?”
“Of exposing ourselves.” He continued to grip her shoulders. “You’re an expert at uncovering the secrets of others, but taking a look at your own is a different matter.”
“You think it frightens me to do so?”
“I think maybe you stay involved in other people’s problems so you won’t have to deal with your own.”
Her father and her fear of the dark came to mind. She’d never discussed it before, she admitted to herself, not even with her mother.
“I’d wager today is the first time you’ve considered your state of loneliness.”
Her defenses rose. She stepped back, away from the trace of his fingers. “Are you so sure I’m lonely?”
He swung his hands to his sides and cocked his head. “I’m an expert on that subject, remember?”
She almost reached out to him. He needed her support. She could almost hear his cry for her touch. But what kept her from doing so was that she heard it as well in herself. She wanted to deny what he said, but the honesty that was integral to her kept her silent.
His lips tilted in a knowing smile. “Come on. I’ll take you back to the cabin.” He swung away from her, breaking the last binding thread.
Margo watched him bend and grab the pack. From the way he moved, she suspected his emotions had affected him too. Her own body trembled.
He led her down the trail through the stately trees. The forest had grown quiet as if it held its breath during the emotional interlude.
She didn’t feel the sense of peace she’d come to associate with the ancient trees. Too many conflicting thoughts jumbled her senses. She didn’t want to acknowledge she was lonely; it meant taking action to alleviate it. Was that was Zane was so afraid of as well? She could certainly understand his reluctance to leave the hideaway he’d forged for himself. It appealed to her to find a place for herself in it.
Bright sunlight momentarily blinded her as they left the shaded woods and stepped out into the meadow leading to Zane’s cabin. As soon as her eyes adjusted she focused on the expanse of grassy land stretching off to one side.
“Zane,” she called as she stopped to stare. “Look at all the flowers. Looks like a field of sunshine.”
He returned to stand beside her. “Wild
daisies.”
“There must be thousands.”
“Did you know daisies stand for lost youth? Days gone by?”
A cloud of melancholy shadowed the sunny sight. “Do you miss your youth?”
“Not the age.” He shrugged. “I don’t mind being older. It’s my outlook, I suppose. In those days I had a clear concept of right and wrong. Good and evil.”
“The war stripped boys of their innocence,” she agreed.
“And left us with guilt and self-hatred.”
“Zane.” She touched his arm, wanting to reassure him.
He flinched. She pulled her hand back to her side.
“There’s a beautiful poem I recently memorized about a field of daisies,” he commented, ignoring the physical reaction. “By Marie Daerr Boehringer.”
To her surprise he began to quote the poem.
“As if it knew there is no end
To its supply, the daisy throws
A quilt upon the meadow land
As white and vast as winter’s snows.
It quite ignores the fact this field
Is seen by few from dawn to night –
Content if but one passerby
Is gladdened by this lovely sight.
Love, too, can draw on endless stores
And, though it walk a path apart,
Still counts it as a victory
If it can touch one lonely heart.”
Margo stared at the daisies.
“They have touched my heart,” she told him. “They’re one of love’s miracles.”
“Now you see why I need to stay here. Why I can’t go to a center in the city.”
“But there are other miracles. Friendship. Family. You need those too.”
“And a lover?”
Her gaze locked with his. Again she felt the power of his need. “All the miracles,” she promised. “All the miracles you desire with your heart, those are the ones you receive.”
He closed his eyes. She lifted her hand to his but put it back down to her side. Yes, love held many miracles. She knew it was the answer for Zane’s lonely heart. It could very well be the answer for hers.
When they reached the cabin, Margo thought about the purpose of her visit. A small part of her hoped she could convince Zane this one last time to come into the city with her. But she knew it had more to do with the fact that she didn’t want to miss this last bit of time until she was ready to leave. The man fascinated her – more than he should. She’d steal another couple of hours.
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