Love's Miracles (19 page)

Margo
kicked at the sand and watched as the grains were swallowed up by a wave. She
should be triumphant over her victory in getting Zane to open up; she should be
delighted with the prospects of the play and Fred’s company. But a strange
restlessness tugged. Margo shook it off. She didn’t want to admit that it had
its roots in that moment with Zane.

In
spite of a restless sleep, Margo was bursting with energy the next morning. She
had worked through several plans during the night; approaches that were
designed to lead Zane into more discussion about himself and definitely
designed to veer away from the personal. She’d anticipated every move, every
direction she thought he might take. If he planned to retreat, she’d be ready
for him. If he opened up, she was prepared for that too.

What
she wasn’t prepared for was the sight of him. He had on boots and tight-fitting
jeans. His white T-shirt was molded to his chest. That was not unusual. What
made her breath go shallow was his face – he’d shaved his beard.

Slowly
she stepped out of the Bronco. She headed for the deck. The strangest urge came
over her to trace her fingers across the planes of that smooth-shaven skin.

Margo
gave herself a shake. “Get a hold of yourself, kiddo,” she muttered under her
breath. “He’s your patient. Nothing more. Yesterday’s kiss meant nothing to him
and s
houldn’t
mean anything to you.” But the knowledge that the kiss had
affected her strengthened her resolve to get off this case as soon as she
returned.

At
the foot of the stairs she grabbed the rail and paused. Her gaze traveled to
his and held. Uncertainty and challenge glittered in his blue eyes. She knew
then. He felt the same way and he didn’t know what to do about it. She had to
make sure he didn’t use what happened yesterday as an excuse to reject therapy.

He
spoke first. “I’m surprised you came.”

“It’s
Sunday.”

What
an inane thing to say
,
she thought as she took one of the steps.

“About
yesterday…”

“Don’t
worry about it.” She climbed another. This was her chance. “It happened. We’ll
forget about it. Now that it’s over and done with, we’ll move on.”

Skepticism
showed in his expression, but she was determined to keep her air of composure.
“We’ll just have to remember that we’re together on a professional basis.”

“
You
can try.”

“Won’t
you?”

He
shifted his weight to his other foot. The stance, with his hip forward, exuded
masculinity. “Will it do any good?”

“A
relationship between a patient and a doctor is the worst kind to have. You need
to confide things to your therapist that most people don’t tell friends or
partners. Actually, people don’t want their friends to know everything about
them.”

His
glance raked down her body. Her skin heated.

His
voice was husky, low. “Have you any idea how long I’ve been up here? Alone.”

Margo
moved to the other side of the deck and leaned against the rail. “The point is,
do you want to
stay
up here? Alone.”

The
heat in his gaze turned to ice. Margo shifted.

“Maybe
you’d be safer if I did.”

“Trying
to scare me off, Zane?” She took a couple of steps toward him. “It won’t work.
You opened up yesterday. It’s time to talk.”

“I
don’t think…”

“Listen.
You’re right about one thing. Sitting around on your deck is too conducive to
getting sidetracked in unproductive thought. Why don’t we try something
different? Active.”

He
straightened and eyed her. “Like what?”

“I
don’t know.” She shrugged, her mind racing for a solution before he closed up
on her again. “What about a walk? I haven’t been in the woods much.”

The
skeptical look he cast almost made her laugh. If she hadn’t been so wary she
would have.

“I
know I’m not dressed for a hike.” She took a quick look at her white cotton
jersey skirt. It was calf-length but loose so she could easily move her legs.
The matching cotton blouse would be cool and she supposed her feet would
survive in the white Keds. “But if we don’t go too far, I’ll make it okay.”

She
hoped. She hadn’t been on a hike since she was a ten-year-old Girl Scout.

His
expression seemed to lighten, but she thought she caught a glimpse of sly
calculation.

“I
suppose I could pack a picnic,” he conceded.

“Great
idea.” She schooled herself not to let her relief show. He was going to accept
her terms. Keeping a careful distance, she followed him into the kitchen. There
was no sense in giving him a chance to change his mind.

It
didn’t take long to put together a lunch. Margo managed to stay out of Zane’s
way as he sliced carrot and celery sticks. Zane put the food and a canteen of
water into a blue nylon day pack and hefted it onto his shoulders.

“Ready?”
he questioned.

A
momentary flicker of doubt crossed her mind, but she quickly dispensed with it.
Certainly he’d take her on an easy trail. She nodded and followed him outside.

He
strode out back, past his workshop, and headed through the grass toward the
forest. The way his jeans slung low on his hips as he took each long stride
caught her attention. She stole one assessing look and then glanced around,
trying to focus on something else.

To
the right, at the edge of the forest, she saw a shed. It was smaller than his
workshop and had no windows. The large lock seemed out of place. Zane didn’t
have a lock on his house nor did she recall one on the workshop.

“Zane,”
she called and waited for him to halt and face her. “What’s in there?”

His
gaze followed the direction of her finger and then swung back to her. A
hardness she’d never seen before settled across his features. “Don’t go near
that shed. Do you understand?”

He
spoke harshly, succinctly, but Margo sensed there was more to his command than
a matter of property. Pursuing it tempted her, but experience advised her to
wait until later.

“No
problem.” She smiled her assurance and began walking past the shed toward him,
wondering about his tactics. Didn’t he know that forbidding her to go in there
only made her more curious about what was inside? Of course, it could be that
he unconsciously wanted her to find out. Sometimes the psyche played games like
that. She made up her mind to investigate later.

The
walk turned out to be a wise ploy to defer personal thoughts of Zane. Even the
mystery of the small shed had lost its hold on her imagination. After a half
hour of strenuous climbing, her energy focused on taking another step and
keeping up with Zane.

The
trail was steep and slippery, not one she’d take a novice like herself on. She
refused to complain. From the way he kept glancing back at her, Margo suspected
he’d taken this trail on purpose to test her mettle. Or maybe it was another attempt
to make her return to the city.

She
wouldn’t give up, but she could protest. She hurried to catch up to him.

Just
before she decided to demand a halt, he told her, “There’s a grove up ahead.
It’s cool.”

Her
muscles ached. There wasn’t a breeze stirring and the temperature had risen
with the afternoon sun. Her blouse clung and she was sure perspiration must be
shiny on her skin.

“I’m
not used to all this exercise,” she puffed. “I mean, the most I get is climbing
the stairs to my apartment.”

“I
thought San Francisco girls kept their great legs in shape by climbing the
hills.”

“My
office is in Berkeley.” She started to tell him more about the location of the
facility when she noticed his glance had focused on her legs. Better change the
subject. She looked past Zane to the steep mountainside they’d just climbed.
Manzanita and sage perfumed the air, but no trees grew on the sheer slopes. “I
thought these mountains were solid redwood forest. Is it barren because of the
logging?”

“Some
areas are stripped because of the lumbering, but not this one.” He came up
beside her. She tried not to notice the way his T-shirt clung to his damp skin
or the woodsy scent of him. “The coast range is so steep in places that trees
can’t grow. This slope, for example, is not only steep, but the soil is
extremely porous.” The fistful of dirt he’d picked up slipped through his
fingers. “It’s mostly loose gravel and doesn’t hold water.”

“But
we just came from a heavily wooded area.” And it had been cool, not hot like
this exposed mountainside.

“Here.
Take some of this and splash it on your face.” He handed her the canteen.

Margo
did as he advised. The water cooled her flushed skin. Evidently the sight of
her distress had softened the edges of his need to challenge. He continued the
hike at a slower pace. She decided to take advantage of his apparent softening
and get him to talk about the rugged terrain.

At
first his answers were terse and to the point. But gradually he loosened up and
began to really explain the geography of the area. It was as if a dam had
broken and all the pent-up conversation of these past lonely months flooded out
of his system.

His
extensive knowledge impressed her; the fact that he relayed it pleased her. The
emotional turmoil yesterday had been worth it. At last, Zane was truly opening
up.

She
could hear traces of enthusiasm in the deep rumble of his voice. When he spoke
as he did now, he seemed normal and mentally healthy, with no hang-ups or
fears. The contact with nature had given him one area where he could attain
peace of mind.

That
was an important factor to consider. It confirmed her dreams of the coastal
retreat where others could learn what Zane had. She could see, though, that
she’d need to learn a lot more about country living if she wanted to participate
with her patients.

The
trail angled across the slope and finally came to another forested area. The
dark shad beckoned and Margo readily entered the wooded stillness.

“It’s
so quiet.” She stared upward at the tall giants. Sunlight shafted through the
boughs, scarcely reaching the damp forest floor. Ferns and clover-like oxalis,
lush and green, flourished in the shade.

“Gives
you a chance to think,” Zane said from behind her. “Forces you to consider your
inner self – measure your worth, so to speak.”

“Is
that why you stay here in the woods? To find yourself?”

“I
know where I’m at,” he told her. “My problem is I don’t like what I know.”

Surprised
by the personal comments, Margo stopped. He’d come up beside her so she
couldn’t see into his eyes. “Why is that?”

“There’s
ugliness. Guilt. Death.”

This
was territory Margo was familiar with – past the surface and to the core. She
forgot about her sore feet, hungry body, and aching muscles. “Everyone has a
dark side. The important thing is to realize there are other parts of yourself
that are good and clean.”

“You
mean my
sensitivity
?” he mentioned with a touch of sarcasm. “I’m sure
that’ll get me far in the world.”

“Maybe
not, but it proves whatever dark side you have, it can’t be all that hopeless.”

“You
don’t know what you’re talking about.” He gestured to a fallen log. “Sit down
and rest.”

Margo
waited until he’d shed the day pack and settled down on the needle-carpeted
floor of the forest. She didn’t need to respond to his remark; it was made in
self-defense. He leaned against the redwood bark of a huge tree trunk. Ignoring
the dirt, she sat opposite, where she could watch his expression closely. “You
don’t know about me either. But I have my nightmares and fears. Everyone does.”

He
scoffed. “You’re one gutsy lady. I can’t imagine you with any fears.”

“I’m
afraid of the dark,” she told him simply and truthfully.

He
started to laugh, then after eyeing her carefully he asked, “What caused that?”

Margo
frowned as her nightmares came to mind. She couldn’t count the times she had
awakened in a dark room to scream at her mother to turn on the lights. She knew
what had caused her phobia but couldn’t seem to get it completely under
control. Even being a psychologist hadn’t helped. She’d never been able to
figure it out, and now wasn’t the time to try. Quickly she set aside her own
problems. It was enough that she’d admitted them; she didn’t need to go into
details.

***

Emotions
conflicted within Zane as he watched her expression closely. He was sorry he’d
upset her, but at the same time he was relieved that his question had put a
stop to hers.

Why
had he brought up the subject anyway? Why had he told her about the ugliness?
His defenses were slipping. She did that to him. He had to keep up his guard.

He
glanced from his white-knuckled fists and into her eyes. “Forget I asked that,”
he told her. “Sometimes feelings are better off hidden.”