“They’ll get us out of here,” Zane promised.
Zane shifted uneasily. He wanted Margo to come back. When she was here, he didn’t think of the past. Her voice drowned out the sound of voices that kept spinning over and over in his tired brain. Would he ever forget those horrible weeks when Charlie surrounded them?
Slowly he stood and staggered to the door. He ran his fingers over the stubble of beard that he’d let grow back since the weekend. He supposed he should eat. But the thought of food made his stomach turn. Maybe a shower would wash away some of the anguish. He had to get himself back together – soon.
***
Rain was still splashing against the window of her office when Margo finished taping her notes on the session she’d just concluded. Her thoughts should have been on her patient, but they weren’t. She couldn’t stop thinking of Zane and her conversation last night with her mother.
Sometime during the course of the conversation she’d come to realize she loved Zane, but her mother’s words tore at her assurance. Was it love for him as a man, or was she indeed transferring onto Zane her need to rescue her father?
Doubts swam in and out of her thoughts. Memories clouded her reasoning. She could hear his baritone echoing across the meadow; feel his touch on her sensitive skin. There were the tender moments when he showed her the wild animals, or his teasing abandon when he’d trapped her in the surf.
How could she doubt it was love when these images came so clearly to mind? It had to be more than transference reaction. And even if there was some inner desire to help Zane overcome his problems, was that so bad? Most women wanted to be there for their men in time of need.
Margo shifted into a more comfortable position, crossing her legs and pushing up the sleeves of her bulky sweater. The peach color of the sweater and the matching wool slacks had brightened her mood. With the rain and wind that were blowing today, she’d needed the boost.
The rewind button clicked off on the transcriber, and Margo turned off the machine. She pulled up another chair across from the one she sat in and put her feet on it. When was the last time she’d stopped for a break? It seemed hours ago and probably was. Closing her eyes and rubbing at her temples, she wondered what Zane was doing now.
Was he in his workshop carving animals with the rain providing a background rhythm? Or perhaps he sat by the fire sipping on a cup of hot chocolate. Was he thinking of her?
With her head resting against the back of the chair, Margo stared at the raindrops as they hit the pane and drizzled down the glass. Her mother had hit upon thought-provoking issues. Margo was experienced enough to realize her mother was also right. Could she handle a relationship with Zane if he never changed?
Yes, her heart screamed the answer in spite of her mind’s doubts. Thinking back on their times together, she knew she could accept him as he was. He had a way of soothing her nerves. His easygoing manner made her slow down and take stock of what was going on around her.
She needed that. Most of the time she was so wrapped up in her patients she rarely took a look at the simple pleasures life had to offer.
She was lonely. She needed companionship and Zane’s was the only company she longed for. She’d never met a man who had affected her as much as Zane had. And like the daisies in the field, if their time together was only for another day it would be enough to simply touch her lonely heart.
Swinging her feet to the ground, Margo stood. After retrieving the finished tape from the transcriber, Margo stretched and left her office. She dropped off the tape on her secretary’s desk and then went to the lounge for a cup of coffee.
With mixed emotions, she greeted Bettina who stood pouring the brew. Bolstering her courage, she braced her hands on the edge of the table and directed her full attention to her mother.
“I’m going to drive up and see him.” Margo gripped the table’s edge and went on before she lost her nerve. “Don’t ask me how I’m going to resolve all the questions you raised. Maybe they are the reason I need to go there so badly.”
Slowly Bettina set down the cup in her hand. She didn’t respond but stood waiting.
“I’m not going up there for treatment, therapy, or counseling. I’m going up there because I have to talk to him.”
“You want a confrontation.”
“He has to get it out.”
“In therapy, Margo. With a noninvolved professional.”
She was right and Margo knew it, but there was no hope for changing her mind. She had to talk to Zane. If nothing else, she had to reaffirm the feelings between them.
“Don’t go up there. You’ll only make it harder for his therapist.”
Margo didn’t respond. Instead, she began clearing dirty cups off the table and running water to wash them. Her mother came up beside her and turned off the water. Margo braced her hands against the sink when Bettina reached for her chin and pulled her face around to look at her.
“I know you’re upset if you start cleaning up around here.”
“I’ve had enough warnings.”
“The things I told you meant nothing?” Hurt showed in Bettina’s eyes.
Margo cupped her mother’s cheek and softened the tone in her voice. “They meant everything.”
Bettina raised a questioning brow. “But you’re still going?”
“Last night you told me about your trials and your moments of weakness. You told me about Gregory Brown and how you and I could have escaped. But you didn’t tell me this, maman. Why didn’t you leave?”
Bettina stepped back as if she’d been slapped. She walked to the table and grasped the back of a chair.
“Why did you stay with him?”
Bettina swung around, a mixture of defiance and defeat in her expression. “I loved him. In spite of all the heartache and pain, I still loved your father.”
“Exactly my point,” Margo said. “I love Zane and I’ll stand by him. He needs to know that.”
For a brief moment Bettina’s shoulders sagged, but then just as quickly she rallied and straightened. “Why don’t you let me drive up with you?”
“I need to talk to him alone.”
Bettina put her hands up and stopped her protest. “Okay. But I can at least go as far as Fort Bragg with you and wait there.”
Margo managed a smile. “It’s sweet of you, and I know you’re offering because you care. Let me have this weekend. If it doesn’t work out, I won’t go back.”
“Promise?”
“I promise.” She grabbed Bettina’s fingers and squeezed them.
Bettina held Margo’s hands for seconds longer than necessary and finally gave them a squeeze. “Don’t let him hurt you.”
“I don’t plan on it.” But she knew there were no guarantees.
After cleaning the lounge, Margo went to her office. Bettina followed her.
Margo walked over to the window where rain splashed on the glass. It was pouring so hard she couldn’t make out the city across the bay. It was hidden behind a curtain of dismal moisture. Moody and nervous, she turned from the gloomy sight and hugged her mother, drawing strength from the contact as well as giving it.
“I have to go to him. We need to talk about this.”
Bettina clutched her daughter’s arm. Margo saw understanding in her eyes, as well as worry and doubt.
“He needs me. I’m afraid that if I don’t go up there, he’ll wall himself in so far that no one will be able to reach him. I can’t let that happen. For his sake or mine.”
Margo punctuated her statement with a flurry of activity. She hurried around the small office, shoving papers here and there to get to the important last-minute details before she took off.
“I packed my bag this morning. I’m going to try and leave in an hour,” she informed her mother. “I should be able to get these cleared by then.”
“It’s raining cats and dogs out there.”
“Since I’m leaving so early I’ll be there before dark. Besides, the highway to Fort Bragg will no
t be a problem. I’ll stay overnight and that way I’ll have an early start in the morning. The storm’s supposed to be cleared up by then.”
Bettina helped Margo wind up her business obligations. As Margo had hoped, in an hour she was on her way. It took only a half hour to rent another Jeep, and by one o’clock she was heading north.
She made better time on the highway now that fall was here and the summer tourists were no longer on the road. By the time she reached Fort Bragg, it was only five o’clock. It hadn’t rained in the last hour.
Margo cruised by the motel she and Ray Smith had stayed at. The thought of spending the night in the stuffy room seemed like torture, and she was too restless to check in now.
There were two hours of daylight left and the ground didn’t look too wet. Maybe she could make it to Zane’s cabin before nightfall. The thought of spending the evening talking to Zane definitely appealed to her, especially in comparison to the lonely room at the motel.
The time it took to get gassed up and stop at a fast food burger stand was enough to settle the inner debate. Common sense lost out. Margo was too anxious to see Zane. Nosing the Jeep north, she headed up the coast.
At the turnoff she eyed the mud and rocks and debated again about going. Carefully she inched off the pavement and onto the graveled dirt. The Jeep moved easily. She picked up speed and realized the off-road vehicle would make it.
Slipping into second gear, Margo headed up the hill. With the sun going down, it wasn’t going to be much drier in the morning anyway.
Margo patted the dash. “You’re doing fine, kiddo.”
Suddenly the Jeep slid sideways. Margo gripped the leather-covered wheel with both hands and brought the vehicle back on the track. Her heart beat in a wild tattoo against her ribs.
“I’m going to make it, Zane. I promise,” she muttered, her voice determined and strong.
Chapter 19
It was Friday night. Zane stood on the deck and watched the sun disappear behind the mountain. It would be dark in an hour, but he didn’t care. For the first time in years he wished he had a bottle of Scotch, the kind his father had kept in the bar for guests. It was strong enough to knock a man on his ear by the time he finished the bottle.
Oblivion appealed to Zane tonight. Before the fiasco at the inn, he had made plans to spend another weekend with Margo. That date had been shot to hell. Again he rubbed his fingers through the stubble growing back on his chin. It felt as rough as his emotions did.
Behind him, the house was a mess. He hadn’t made that bed since he’d returned. He hadn’t slept much in it for that matter. Every time he stretched out on the rumpled sheets, all he could think of was Margo. He’d lie there for several minutes, remembering the scent of her and imagining the way her body would feel curled into his. Frustrated, he would get up and rummage around in the kitchen.
It looked in worse shape than the loft. Dirty dishes filled the sink and were spread across the counter even though he hadn’t bothered to eat much. Every time he’d tried, thoughts of Margo would interfere: the way her lips wrapped around that fresh peach, the juices dribbling down her chin and fingers; or the way she laughed when telling him about whipping up a chocolate pudding in the middle of the night and eating it all herself.
Zane swore out loud, hoping to chase away the echoes of her laughter. The sound haunted him as much as the memories of Al.
Disgusted and restless, Zane sauntered down the steps. He should go clean up the pigsty forming inside the cabin, but he needed to work on the statue. Grass brushed his jeans as he crossed the meadow to the shed.
Memories of Al were torture, but so were memories of Margo. At least the old ones were familiar and he knew how to handle them. Tonight’s torment was new and raw. He wanted Margo.
At the entrance to the shed, he pushed the door that creaked on its rusted hinges. The statue loomed in the shadows, revealing his dark secret. Zane debated whether to go inside. Memories called to him, drawing him in. They battled with thoughts of Margo. Her smile beckoned, but it made him ache with fresh pain. He slammed the door shut and leaned against the hard wood, staring at the statue, forcing himself to remember.
“Remind me, Al. Make me remember why I can’t love her.”
He fell to his knees, the sorrow making him weak. Behind him the door swung open, evidently not catching the latch. He didn’t bother with it but let the last rays of sunlight illumine the face with no eyes.
Zane swiped at the sweat with his bandanna and shifted to wipe Al’s face. The bleeding from the gash on his forehead had stopped that first day, but blood was caked on his skin and clothes.
In a weak moment, when Charlie had been near, Zane had almost surrendered. Just to get it over with. But he knew better. They’d be skinned alive and left to rot, staked out for the insects to feast on. Sweat ran down his face in rivulets as he crouched in the stinking cave. For two weeks they’d been holed up. Zane didn’t think he could stand another minute. If the Vietcong didn’t spot them, they’d sure as hell smell out there hiding place.
Zane glanced at Al’s leg. It had turned green and reeked of rotten flesh. The unconscious man was going to lose the leg. If he didn’t get help soon, he’d lose his life.
Zane batted at another mosquito. Wasn’t that what they were doing now? Rotting in the fetid heat? He looked at Al. His breathing was labored from broken ribs. He wouldn’t make it much longer.
Maybe he should leave. Try to find a patrol and bring back help. But every time he thought about it, Al would stir. Sometimes Al screamed in pain. No. He couldn’t leave Al alone. Charlie would find him for sure.
Zane shifted, straightening his cramped leg. Al opened his eyes.
“Thirsty?” Zane asked. At least he’d been able to go get water every night from a nearby stream.
Al nodded and Zane breathed a sigh of relief. This time Al was lucid. He held the canteen to Al’s lips.
Al drank and then spoke. “Do it, Zane. You’ve got to shoot me. I can’t stand this pain.”
Al struggled briefly and Zane looked down to stare into the barrel of Al’s .38. In spite of the steamy heat, his blood turned to ice. “You don’t know what you’re asking.”
“You have to, Zane.” Sweat beaded on Al’s brow. His hand shook as he tried to grip the heavy weapon. But his eyes were steady, determined. “I want it quick and clean.”
“We’ve been through too much.” Zane sought desperately for an alternative – a solution – anything but…
“Brothers, Zane. We’re like blood.”
A shout sounded through the dense foliage. Close – too damned close. Zane hugged Al’s broken body to his chest. “I can’t do it. Man, I love you.”
“You have to.”
Zane’s fingers shook as he reached for the gun. It fit easily into the curve of his palm, but he couldn’t lift the deadly weight. He buried his face in Al’s neck and thought of the song he’d started to sing earlier. “Forget mistakes of yesterday. We’ll dream another dream.”
Outside the cave he heard it. He didn’t understand Charlie’s lingo, but he recognized the shout of victory. They’d been found.
Suddenly the fear fell away and so did all emotion. His voice rang loud and clear as he stared into Al’s steady gaze.
“Tomorrow discover truth and promise on the tides of destination. Friends we’ll be forever.”
Zane jumped up as his memories continued to torture him. He had to get out of here, away from the statue, away from the pain. He tore out the door and started running across the meadow.
***
The tires spun out on the edge of the meadow. The ground was still too muddy, but Margo didn’t care. In the last pink rays of light she could see the A-frame. She’d made it.
Relieved and shaky, she crossed her arms and leaned them and her head against the steering wheel. Her muscles ached from tension and her body shuddered with nervous tremors. Never in her life had she been as tense as she’d been slipping and sliding on that road
.
After several deep breaths she swung her legs out the door, ignoring the splatter of mud on her wool pants. Her matching peach pumps were a lost cause. She’d have to throw them away, but she’d worry about all that later.
A bag of food she’d purchased at the deli in Fort Bragg was in the trunk. The lid slammed after she took it out, the metallic sound carrying across the empty meadow. She glanced toward the house, wondering if Zane had heard her car. Would he be glad to see her?
Her heart pumped with anticipation as she started out across the grassy meadow. Her heels sank in the marsh-like ground until she gave up and stepped out of the awkward shoes. Cool mud oozed between her toes, but she didn’t mind. The earthy texture made her feel a kinship with Zane, as did the clean smell in the air, washed from the rain. Slipping the pair of shoes in one hand and balancing the bag of food with the other, she finally made it to the deck.
The sliding glass door stood open, but there was no sign of Zane. Shadowed in silent darkness, Margo hesitated to go inside. After she dropped her shoes on the deck and wiped her feet, she headed toward the kitchen.
“Zane?”
Silence.
Obviously he wasn’t there. A quick check in the loft confirmed it. Disappointed, she tried the lights. When they didn’t come on, she hoped he had gone to start the generator.
Just in case, Margo returned to the kitchen and found the candles Zane kept in the drawer. After lighting a couple she felt better. Their flickering rays soothed some of her rough nerves.
Where are you, Zane? She walked to the window and peered across the meadow toward the forest. Nothing moved, no sound could be heard. More than anything in this world, she wanted to see him stalk across that stretch of green grass.
Her heart raced as she pictured herself running toward him. She could almost see the serious features of his face brighten as he saw her. He’d open his arms wide and she’d run straight into them, loving the way they wrapped around her, thrilling in the way he’d swing her high in the air.
Then she’d come down, slowly sliding down his chest – that hard wall of muscle that she wanted to trace. When her lips were even with his, he’d stop her descent and slowly but thoroughly capture them with his own.
Love's Miracles Page 28