“You take the lesson and examine it, Zane. You may have the same decision to make again.”
He balled his hands into fists and pounded them into the blanket-covered sand between his legs. “Maybe I don’t want that responsibility.”
“Or any decision involving people’s lives?”
Abruptly he stood and paced to the edge of the river. The sunlight contoured the muscles that flexed from the inner turmoil. Tension radiated from him, sending waves of it across the beach to attack Margo’s heart. She held her hand out, silently offering comfort that she had no right to give.
For endless minutes he stared across the river. Margo took a deep breath and lowered her hand. The waterfall splashed its rhythm into the void of silence. She closed her eyes and silently prayed.
How could she walk away from this man when he’d let her see his pain? It wasn’t fair that she cared too much. If only she’d met him in different circumstances – not as a psychologist but as a friend.
At first she didn’t hear his voice, but its strength grew and carried back to her. “You’re right. There’re some things I need to talk about. Dig up and get out.”
Her shoulders sagged with relief as she offered silent thanks. Tears burned the backs of her eyes, but she quickly blinked them back. She cleared her throat before speaking. “Have you looked over the list I gave you?”
He swiveled to face her, his expression puzzled. “I don’t want a stranger. I want to talk to you.”
“Not as your therapist.”
“As my friend then?”
Margo tried to swallow, but emotion clogged her throat. “I hope I’m your friend. And if you believe I am, you’ll understand that you can’t open up to me about those buried memories. Not now. Not until you’ve dealt with them.”
He came to the blanket and knelt in front of her. The heat from his sun-warmed skin radiated to her. The honest longing in his eyes melted her heart. He reached across the space and brushed back a strand of hair, his fingers barely touching her cheek.
“Is there anything we can talk about?”
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.
It didn’t help to assure herself that he’d promised to seek therapy. What if he didn’t follow through with it? What if he couldn’t open up to someone else? What if he needed her?
Need – such a demanding emotion. Plenty of people needed her and she helped most of them. She thought about her patients. Most of them had been patients for years, but not all. She’d just have to make Zane realize that he needed therapy more than he needed her.
Margo shifted her foot and stood. A loud screech captured her attention. She shaded her eyes and looked skyward. A hawk circled as he soared the thermal air current.
“Big Red. Is that you, fella?”
He screeched again.
Margo watched as the bird continued to soar. What does it feel like to be able to fly and see the world below? she wondered.
She took a step and felt a rock shift below her. Quickly she looked down to regain her balance, but bright light from the plane reflected in her eyes and distorted her vision. She reached out with her foot and felt nothing but air. Panic seized her and she grasped for a foothold on the ledge. Her hands clutched at the rocks, and suddenly she felt herself falling through space.
She screamed.
Shale clattered and tumbled as she slid down the rocky slope. Pain jabbed and jolted every part of her body. Her nails ripped
as she frantically clutched at rocks in a vain effort to stop her fall.
“Zane!” she screamed again.
Suddenly she bumped hard. It felt like her chest had caved in. Rocks slid by her, but she remained still. She froze, afraid to move. Her eyes were shut tight, her arms raised to protect her head. It grew still as the last rock clattered below. Slowly she lowered her arms and opened her eyes.
Blue sky filled her vision. There was nothing above her but the steep wall of rock she’d slid down. Without moving the rest of her body, she turned her head. Horror filled her heart as she looked below. There was only empty space. She hadn’t fallen all the way down, though. A rock ledge protruded twenty feet from where she’d been. Several hundred feet below was the plane and the bottom of the chasm.
A lump formed in her throat as she fought a scream. She told herself not to move or panic, to remain calm and get settled as safely as she could.
Before she budged, she studied her perch. Her legs hung over and the rock jabbed painfully into her side. Could she sit up? She wanted to desperately, but she didn’t dare move.
It took an hour of careful planning before she managed to maneuver to a more comfortable position. She rested while sweat poured off her brow. Her tongue was sticky from dryness and her body ached from cuts and bruises. No bones were broken. There was that to be thankful for.
Now what? Wait for Zane? He could stay at the pool for hours, even until nightfall. Her stomach contracted with fear. Would she have to stay out here in the dark? Alone?
She didn’t know how much time she had. A quick glance at her watch told her nothing. It had broken during the fall, its face gone and the insides crushed. She glared at the sun and moaned. It hung low in the sky.
A movement caught her attention and she spotted the hawk still soaring above her. She wished she could tell it to go for Zane. The hawk circled one more time and then disappeared from sight.
Chapter 13
The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the meadow as Zane approached his house. The hard-packed earth felt cool on his bare toes. He hadn’t bothered with shoes when he’d left the river. Perhaps he should get a shirt and dry pants on. The evening air would turn chilly.
Love's Miracles Page 19