Love's Miracles (18 page)

Nor
did she. Images focused: Zane sitting at the bench, his long fingers carefully
holding a carved piece of wood. She could almost feel the strong touch of his
fingers as he shaped the final features.

“You
must have mountains of patience to etch the tiny details.”

“Not
so much patience as time,” he commented while he still focused inward. “I’ve
thrown away more carvings than I care to count.”

Margo
finally managed to draw her attention away from Zane and focus on the woodland
creatures. Each animal tugged at an emotion. Her glance landed on a startled
deer and moved on to a curious skunk. Only a man with deep feelings could
extract such expression in the difficult craft.

“I’m
impressed. These pieces are works of art. They should be shown at an exhibit.”

He
peeled away from the window and stepped beside her. His finger traced along the
lines of a squirrel she held in her hand. “There’s a part of me in each one of
these. I don’t think I’d want to show them to anyone else.”

She
could smell the sunshine on his skin, hear the unsteady rhythm of his
breathing. She glanced into his eyes and caught a glimpse of uncertainty before
he shuttered them with his lashes.

“I’m
glad you showed them to me,” she murmured.

A
frown formed and she thought she saw pain in his eyes. His voice was low when
he spoke, its tone touching and deep. “I don’t know why I let you see them,
but…”

She
knew why. He was reaching out for contact and she didn’t want him to destroy it
with reason. “I’m honored. I can tell from the work that you’re a sensitive
man.”

He
backed away from her then and put space between them. The amusement in his
expression surprised and pleased her. “Sensitive? No man likes to be told he’s
sensitive.”

She
tried not to feel disappointed that he’d moved away. She smiled. “That’s the
‘in’ thing right now. Didn’t you know? I mean, it’s all the rage for a man to
be sensitive and caring.”

“Maybe
I’d better stay out here in the woods.”

“Where
a man can be a man?” she teased.

“You
got it.”

His
chuckle echoed in the quiet room. He seemed surprised by the rich sounds.

“Show
me the process you use to do this,” she said. She didn’t want to lose the
casual ambience that they were beginning to feel comfortable with. Margo
suspected Zane didn’t either.

Motioning
for her to join him, he walked over to the workbench located in the center of
the room and pointed to a small piece of burl gripped in a vise. “I use chisels
to chip away the outer layers.” He picked up a small mallet and demonstrated.
“This gets me to the general shape of the animal faster than carving.”

His
hands moved with confidence and agility as they had when he’d sewn up the deer.
She tried not to imagine how they’d feel touching her.

“When
I get down to an overall outline, I start carving.” He laid out several tools
for her to see and explained how each one worked.

“You
have to have a good eye,” she commented.

He
nodded. “The secret is to proceed slowly. You can always take a little more
wood off, but you can’t put it back on.”

It
sounded like advice she often gave herself, and what she should adhere to now.

For
over an hour he explained the procedure of carving. The heavy tension that had
charged the room eased as they both concentrated on the process, but Margo
couldn’t shake away all of her memories. She refused to look at his mouth or
get near enough to touch. If Zane had to force nonchalance, it was difficult to
notice, but from the occasional pause and the way he stared she suspected he
did.

In
spite of the undercurrents, Margo was pleased. They’d made progress today. Now
that Zane had opened up, she should be able to convince him to make the big
move and return to the city. Now was the time to bring it up, she thought as
they left the workshop and headed across the meadow toward the house.

“What
you have here has been good, but I think you should go back to the Bay Area
where you can get involved in therapy sessions.”

“I
don’t need therapy.”

The
tension that formed in him was hardly perceptible. But Margo noticed. “I can
understand that. A lot of people who have experienced what you have feel the
same way. But let me tell you what usually happens to them if they don’t go
in.”

He
kept walking, but she could tell he was listening. “Many of them find they have
problems with drinking, drugs, sometimes violence, or a difficult time holding
down a job.”

“You
think I have these kinds of problems?”

“Do
you?”

“No.
And whoever told…”

“No
one has mentioned those things to me. I’m giving you generalities. Perhaps your
way of manifesting your stress is this escape into the wilderness.”

He
remained silent.

“You’ve
left your responsibilities behind. Zanelli, Inc. is a big business. Not
something to walk away from.”

“How
do you associate that with something that happened twenty years ago? How do you
even know my problems relate to Nam?”

“Do
they?”

The
grass brushed her legs when she stopped. Zane swung around and faced her, his
expression unreadable yet his eyes held…what? Confusion?

“A
week before I came here I almost killed twelve men.”

Alerted
by the anger punctuating each word, Margo kept her reaction calm. “Do you want
to tell me about it?”

He
stared into her eyes, then lifted his gaze to the sky. For a minute she thought
he’d retreated behind his wall, but he straightened and spoke, his voice harsh.

“I
knew better than to send them. The Coast Guard had issued warnings, but I let
Vinnie talk me into it – something I’ve never done before.”

“And
you think your judgment for making decisions is off?”

He
tugged on his beard. “Maybe I don’t want to be in charge anymore.”

“One
incident wouldn’t eat at your self-confidence like that. There have to be other
events that led you to take such steps.”

“I
didn’t take any drastic ‘steps,’ as you call it. I took a vacation.”

“That
has extended for nine months.”

“So?”

“So
deal with it. Find out what’s eating at your insides and get it out. That’s how
you regain control of your life.”

He
started walking again and Margo had to take long steps to keep up with him.

She
continued talking. “Talk with other vets who’ve shared your experiences and…”

He
stopped and grabbed her upper arms to force her to look into his eyes. “I’m not
going in. I don’t need help. If you want to keep coming here, fine. But that’s
the limit.”

“I
can recommend another therapist who…”

“No.”
His fingers tightened. “Only you.”

Margo
forced a calm into her voice as she stared him down with a determined glare.
“We can talk about this rationally.”

He
hesitated before dropping his hands to his sides. An odd combination of anger
and appeal flashed in his expression that he would have hated if he’d known it
showed. Margo responded to it.

“Can’t
you understand why it would be best to refer you to someone else?”

He
nodded, but he didn’t give in. “Only you, Margo. And don’t be afraid. What
happened today won’t happen again.”

Margo
believed him. If he promised, he’d keep it. But what about her reactions? She
realized she was losing the ability to maintain a doctor-patient detachment.

“Dr.
Fred Barlow can come…”

“
Only
you.
”

***

Later
that afternoon, after the strenuous drive from Zane’s to the inn, she consoled
her weary body by promising herself that soon Zane would probably be coming in
to the center. Her commuting days were nearing an end. Even though he hadn’t
agreed to therapy today, she knew many methods to use that would convince him.

A
quick meal in the restaurant started her on the road to relaxation. The old
songs from the sixties that were in the jukebox brought nostalgic memories. She
hurried up to her room, took a leisurely bath, and then stretched out on the
bed to let a session of meditation relieve the last curls of tension. It was
easier said than done. No matter how hard she tried to center her thoughts, she
couldn’t do it. Her day with Zane kept playing over and over in her mind. She
couldn’t forget the deep hunger in his touch nor could she deny her response to
the vulnerable side of him that was beginning to unfold. She couldn’t stop
sensing that she might have the power to fill the chasm of loneliness that
engulfed him.

Margo
shifted and forced her muscles to relax. She had to stop this line of thinking.
It was unprofessional for one thing, and certainly not like her. But then she’d
never met anyone like Zane before.

“Oh,
stop it,” she ordered. She tried to empty her mind again, but when that didn’t
work she focused on plans for the future, ideas for therapy, and professional
conjecture about Zane. Amos’s case had been the catalyst that still gave her
reason to believe Zane’s behavior stemmed from the war. Then again it could be
related to the fishing business. A man who read ecology magazines would be in
conflict with the issues revolving around the fishing industry. And they hadn’t
even touched on personal relations – his ex-wife, for example. And what about
the song “Forever Friends”?

Margo
rolled onto her side, brushing back the strands of hair from across her face.
It would work out; it always did. Right now she needed some of the patience
Zane practiced with his carvings.

It
was no use. Margo sat up. Maybe a walk on the beach would help. She swung her
legs over the side of the bed when the phone rang.

“Fred.
What’s up?”

Margo
listened. There wasn’t anything important. He’d just wanted to check on her.
For once she didn’t mind. She welcomed the distraction.

“I
sensed you were getting frustrated, Margo. Did it go any better today?”

Even
though he knew next to nothing about the case, he was aware of her stress.
They’d worked together too many years for him not to notice her mood swings.

“In
fact, I wanted to talk to you about that. I think my client will be ready to
come in soon. I’ve mentioned your name and told him I want to refer him to
you.”

“How
did he react?”                    

“He
insists he doesn’t need therapy.”

“What’s
your opinion?” Fred asked.

“His
problems don’t appear serious, but I think he’d benefit from your sessions.”

“If
he agrees, we’ll set up an appointment and go over his records. Think it’ll be
this week?”

Margo
braced the receiver against her shoulder while she slipped on orange cotton
sweats. “Not this week. But soon, I hope. I have to be careful and not push too
fast.”

“I
don’t like you driving those roads. I’ll feel better when he’s at the center.”
Fred’s exasperation carried through the wires. “Besides, you won’t last that
long working seven days a week.”

Margo
sighed. The strain of the long drive was wearing her down. That was probably
the reason for her strange reaction to Zane’s kiss. She’d have to get Zane in
soon. They’d both be in better control when he was surrounded by the formal
environment of the center. On Zane’s land there was too much freedom.

“He
just opened up today, Fred. Let me ease him into the idea tomorrow. Then I’ll
put on some pressure.”

“You’re
probably right.” Margo could picture Fred raking his fingers through his sandy
hair like he always did when he had to decide on something he wasn’t happy
about. “I just worry about you. I miss you too.”

He
paused and Margo tightened her fingers on the receiver. She knew Fred wanted
more of a relationship. Rarely did he let it show.

“There’s
a new play opening at the university,” he said. “If you’re going to be in town,
let’s take it in some night next week.”

That
sounded nice – and safe. And maybe she could forget Zane for a few hours. Margo
eased her grip on the phone. “Sure, Fred. I don’t have any consulting jobs
lined up until the end of the month. How about Tuesday?”

“Tuesday’s
fine. It’ll give you something to look forward to while you’re up there all
alone.”

“Thanks.”

Margo
hung up the phone. For several seconds she followed Fred’s advice and thought
about the play. Images of Zane interrupted. What did tomorrow hold? Did he
anticipate her visit with hope, or would she find him back behind the wall?

Today
had been a breakthrough. Emotional release was allowed and expected. But
tomorrow was another matter. She’d have to make every effort to put them back
on a doctor-patient footing.

Even
thought she was tired, Margo took the walk along the beach. The misty fog
enveloped the surrounding cliffs and made her world seem small and
uncomplicated. It was exactly what she needed – or so she thought. However, an
unusual loneliness snuck in and ruined the peace.