Love's Miracles

by Sandra Leesmith

  “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…”

  Her voice broke. She took a deep breath so she could continue.

  Zane started to rise. Quickly she straightened and put up her hand.

  “No, don’t. Stay there.” She took a shaky breath. “It happened years ago. I have it under control.”

  He eased back on the couch, alert and ready to move. Her body was tense, her face constricted by the effort to keep her emotions in. She sat still and breathed deeply, her eyes shut and fists clenched.

  Zane fought the urge to pull her into his arms. Several aspects of her fit into place now: her determination to work with him, her ability not to condemn. Maybe she really could understand part of what he’d gone through – the guilt, the shame.

  The chilled sounds of her voice captured his attention. “The next day I came home from school. Maman was at work. The house was dark and cold. My eyes weren’t adjusted so I felt my way to the chair where my father usually sat.”

  Her breath came in gasps. Zane did move this time. He slid down the couch and pulled her into his arms. She felt as cold as ice.

  “He’d shot himself. In the head.”

  The bile rose in his throat as his arms tightened around her. He wanted to scream at God for life’s injustices. Surprisingly she continued on, but her voice had hardened as if she’d packed that part of her life in ice.

  “After his death I hated the dark. I would have to leave the lights on all night and windows open all day. If we were ever in the dark, I’d scream.” She gripped the material of his tank top. “Now I get angry and frustrated at the thought of not being able to help my father. But I was too young then to understand.”

  She shuddered again and this time Zane shuddered with her. What a set of childhood memories. He wanted to ease the pain, take away the fear – but how? What kind of peace could a man with as many problems as he had offer?

  ***

  Firelight flickered, but its glow had dimmed. Margo felt as faded as if her energy had drained with each lick of flame. As she watched the play of light across the high-beamed ceiling, she thought how safe it felt to be held in Zane’s arms.

  What a pair they made. After pouring out her past to Zane, she now understood one very important fact. She, Dr. Margo Devaull, competent psychologist, needed to go for counseling herself. The emotional turmoil alone that had unleashed itself was a good indication, but the icy chill was the real clue. She hadn’t forgiven her father for leaving her – and she hadn’t forgiven herself for not being able to prevent his suicide.

  Exhausted and stiff from her bruises, she closed her eyes. The oblivion of sleep appealed to her, but she’d have to get up and climb the stairs to the loft. She didn’t want to do that; it felt too good to be held by Zane.

  Her face pressed against the rough hairs of his chest. His arms protected her from more demons of the past. The thump of his heart beat in her ear and she relaxed to the steady rhythm. She wanted to stay here for the rest of the night but knew she couldn’t. In fact, she should get up now.

  Reluctantly she started to slip out of his embrace, but he tightened his hold.

  “Rest some more here. In front of the fire. Let me hold you.”

  The invitation was too tempting to ignore. Margo settled back down and relished his full-bodied scent. He brushed her hair behind her ear and cupped the nape of her neck. She almost willed him to kiss her, and with that realization she sat upright. She swung her legs onto the floor and groaned as pain shot up from the bruise on her side.

  Zane let her go, but he didn’t smile as he leaned back and watched her. “Still not going to break down those ethics?”

  The hint of respect bolstered her courage. “It isn’t just ethics, Zane, and I think you know that. I could easily become involved with you. But it wouldn’t be good for you or me. We both have things we need to work out. We’re no good for each other right now.” She reached over and took his hand in hers. “Neither one of us would be happy with a relationship of dependency. We need to be strong.”

  His attempt at a laugh ended up more like a groan. “You’re right, but where do we go from here? I don’t want you in my life now. But I don’t want you out of it either.”

  Margo looked at him, the angular features contoured in the dim light. She wanted to reach out to him but held back, wondering if at last she’d found love.

  “It depends on you,” she had to tell him. “If you commit to therapy and then still feel the same about me…”

  “This isn’t a passing interest because you’re a doctor.”

  “Isn’t it?” she asked, wishing hi
s words were true but knowing that once she left he could become engrossed in himself and forget her.

  “Will you keep in touch?” he asked.

  “I can write. I’ll leave my address and phone number.” Her glance locked with his. “Call me if you really need help.”

  “Do you have someone to call?”

  She nodded. He reached out to touch her but paused, his hand a breath away from her cheek. Margo watched the play of emotions in his gaze. When he dropped his hand, she sighed with regret as she stood and went up the lonely flight of stairs to the loft.

  Chapter 14

  Zane whistled as he shaved the remaining whiskers. He stared at the stranger in the mirror and shook his head. It was odd to see the happy lights dancing in his eyes.

  He finished shaving and quickly showered before putting on a clean pair of jeans and one of his newer sky-blue shirts. For the first time he was glad Sara had insisted on sending clothes with Vinnie. A quick check in the mirror made him smile.

  Margo was upstairs sleeping. Before dawn he had finally dropped off to sleep himself – just long enough to recharge. Too many things had happened too fast to allow him the peace of mind to sleep.

  He paced from the living room to the kitchen and to the living room again. He looked up at the loft and then at his watch. Nine o’clock. Wasn’t she ever going to wake up? He’d been about for an hour and he wanted to talk.

  Who would have believed it? Certainly not him. He didn’t want to care for someone again, but with Margo he couldn’t seem to help it. It was more than physical attraction, although that played its part. He felt comfortable and at ease with her. He glanced at the loft again.

  The coffee maker gurgled as it finished brewing. He looked at it and smiled. Surely the smell of hot coffee could lure her awake. He hurried across the kitchen, curling his toes on top of the cool tiles of the floor.

  Sunlight reflected against the windows, sending warm shafts of light into the spacious room. Dust particles floated in the air, giving the place an aura of stillness.

  He had let her sleep in. She was tired and her fall had been traumatic, taking a lot out of her – and him, for that matter. But she’d had enough sleep now; he wanted to see her smile.

  Aromatic steam curled upward as he carefully carried the earthenware mug upstairs. He paused when he caught sight of her. Dark hair capped her head and one curl curved across her chin. Thick lashes shadowed her cheeks. In spite of bruises, her skin glowed in the morning light while her body formed inviting hills and valleys beneath the sheet.

  He gripped the cup and willed his pulse to return to normal. He’d known all along he’d wanted to get her into his bed, but yesterday, when he’d seen her hanging precariously down the cliff, he knew he wanted more. He already admitted he cared, but there was more than that and it was something he wouldn’t contemplate yet.

  He was about to turn around and go downstairs when she moved. Coral-tipped toes slid out from under the sheet. Entranced, Zane visually traced from the pointed toes upward across sloping lines until he encountered wide brown eyes.

  He stared into their depths, intrigued by the sleepy gaze. With a bold sweep she took him in from top to toe, probably noticing his groomed appearance. When her glance went back to his hands, her face lit up into warm sunshine. “Is that hot coffee I smell?”

  “It’s about time you woke up.”

  “It’s a treat to sleep in,” she told him. “Coffee smells good.”

  “Don’t tell me you want a cup in bed?”

  She sent him a hopeful grin. “It would seem like I’d gone to heaven if you brought it to me.”

  “Guess I’d better or you’ll end up sleeping all day.”

  “That’s an idea. Would you mind?”

  She stretched and Zane’s interest heightened. He was tempted to toss the cup and crawl into bed with her, but he didn’t. He’d have to settle for waking her up to share the day with him.

  “Here. Drink this. It’ll get you going.” He sat on the edge of the bed and held out the coffee.

  She reached for the mug, bracing against the movement of the water bed. “I could sure get used to this.” She breathed in the aromatic steam and cast him a wistful glance.

  “Don’t give me those big eyes.”

  “Big eyes?”

  “You keep looking at me like that and I’ll be right there in bed with you.”

  Her eyes did get big then.

  There was no reason to get cocky. She’d managed to keep him away during the night. As he watched her sip the coffee, the sheet slid and exposed a round shoulder. He wanted to smooth his fingers on it.

  As if reading his mind, she started to tug on the sheet but winced, almost spilling her coffee.

  “Easy now.” Zane reached for her hand and steadied it. “You must be stiff and sore this morning.”

  Carefully he inched the sheet over her shoulder and tried not to notice the softness of her skin.

  “I have felt better.”

  “How about breakfast? It’s after nine.”

  Surprise showed in her eyes. “I don’t usually sleep that late. I bet you’re the one who’s hungry.”

  “As a bear.” He smiled. “And waiting for you to get up.”

  Her return smile warmed his heart. To think he’d denied himself this sharing. A tiny voice warned him that he shouldn’t enjoy it so much, that when she left…

  He ignored the warning and spoke. “Since you were here overnight, can you stay for the rest of the day?”

  ***

  Margo studied the look of anticipation and hated the idea of disappointing him. “As much as I’d love to” – and she would, she realized – “I’ll have to say no. I need to get into town and call my secretary. She’ll have to cancel my afternoon appointments.”

  She never scheduled appointments until two-thirty on Mondays, a habit that had proven practical many times before today. Thankfully her mother was out of town at a conference, so she wouldn’t be worried.

  Zane stood, obviously reluctant to leave. “I’ll go fix breakfast then.”

  She sipped her coffee as she watched him disappear down the stairs. His departure left an empty space in her heart as well as in the room. It was going to be very difficult to leave. In fact, it was going to be next to impossible.

  It was a half hour before Margo finally did get up. Stiff and aching, she showered and put on the dress she’d worn yesterday before changing into the cut-offs. She smiled at Zane’s reaction to the red cotton jersey.

  “Looks like you tried to make a dress out of a tank top for a giant,” he told her.

  “I see you need an education on the latest fashions. You’ve been in these hills too long.”

  “You can wear whatever pleases you,” he assured her. “I’m not crazy about convention myself.”

  “We have that in common,” she said before taking a sip of the coffee he’d set for her at the island counter.

  Zane brought two plates of eggs that had been fried with sausage, onions, and peppers and placed them side by side at the counter. Margo took an appreciative whiff and thought what a pleasure this morning intimacy was.

  He sat down beside her. “We have a lot more in common.” His gaze was serious as it focused on her. “We both like opera. You seem to like animals.”

  “I didn’t realize how much I’d enjoy them,” she admitted. “Do you think we could get to the grove and back in an hour? I’d like to see them again before I leave.”

  Zane nodded. “We’ll take some food. That’ll guarantee they show up.”

  It didn’t take long to finish the meal. Outside it was already beginning to get hot. The sun beat down on Margo’s back as they crossed the meadow. She breathed in the clear air and realized she was going to miss her visits here, for more reasons than one. Not seeing Zane again was going to be painful, but the peace she found in the serene environment would also be missed.

  In the shadowed stillness of the grove, animals scurried to the feeding pla
tform as Zane had promised. She knelt on the ground, ignoring her aches and bruises, and watched the scene. She could feel Zane’s gaze trained on her. She tried to ignore it and focus instead on the animals. It was impossible. Finally she slid her glance to his and was immediately captured.

  “Why is it there’s not a man in your life?” he asked. “You’re lovely.”

  How could such a simple question send electric currents charging through her?

  “I explained before. You know,” she said with a shrug, breaking the probing stare by lowering her head.

  “No, I don’t know much about you at all.” Strands of hair had fallen forward, hiding her face. He tucked them behind her ear, and with one finger turned her chin toward him so he could look into her eyes again. “Tell me about you. Why is a beautiful woman like you alone? Are you hiding from relationships?”

  “It isn’t so much hiding. I want a relationship. But my job is important to me. I’ve never found anyone who could accept that.”

  “What about this Fred Barlow? You’ve mentioned him several times. I had the feeling you were close.”

  His tone gave him away. Zane was extremely interested in her reply. “Fred’s a friend. A former colleague. But that’s all.”

  It was hardly a flicker, but relief showed in his eyes. He didn’t need to be worried. No one had come close to affecting her like Zane had – not even Paul.

  “I was engaged once,” she went on to explain. “A couple of years after I’d started my practice. But Paul didn’t like the time I spent at the center. He wanted me available for all the major social events. He wanted me home.”

  “Don’t tell me you’re an active feminist against the traditional housewife role?” Zane shifted, tucking his foot beneath him so he could face her.

  “On the contrary. I think the role is extremely important. Especially where children are concerned. But you understand why I’m committed to my work.”

  “Because of your father?”

  “Exactly.”

  “But don’t you want to be a wife someday? Have children?”

  The question tugged at familiar chords of discontent. Zane must have sensed its strength because he reached out and covered her hand. The gentle squeeze of his fingers chased away some of the lonely ache.