Love's Miracles (20 page)

“Are
they, Zane? If they stay inside they eat away at your confidence.”

He
looked at the understanding in her eyes, the sweep of her hair and softness of
her body. It would be selfish to inflict his nightmares on her. “The telling
isn’t always worth the pain.”

“Isn’t
it? The burden isn’t so heavy if you share the load.”

“Share
yours with me. Then we’ll see if
you
feel better.”

He
saw the backtracking in her expression. She wanted to hear about his fears but
refused to talk about her own. It was typical, but he understood. She surprised
him when she spoke.

“I’ve
talked about what happened. It’s helped.” She glanced away from him and looked around
the quiet grove.

Not
much
,
he thought. The subject still bothered her and that fact bothered him. He took
her hand and tugged. It brought her glance back to his, but that was a mistake.
He felt swallowed by her gaze. When had he last felt this interested in
another?

“What
about that lunch?” Her voice was steady and controlled. She pulled her hand
from his grasp and stood. He watched her brush the forest duff from her skin.
Her legs seemed to go on forever.

“I
see we have apples, too,” she said, but he wasn’t paying much attention to her
words. Instead he focused on the play of the movement in her arm as she fiddled
with the pack.

“What
do you want? An apple or a sandwich?”

He
gave himself an inward shake. “Both. I’m famished.” But it wasn’t for food; he
wanted her.

Zane
knew she would have to forget the notion that they could work out his problems
platonically. His problems were a lost cause, and so was a platonic
relationship. However, he didn’t want to tell her not to come back. He’d have
to work on controlling his emotions.

It
wouldn’t be easy.

He’d
bide his time. He had years of practice at that.

As
if sensing his thoughts, she handed him the food with caution. He’d give her a
break.

“Do
you see that tree over there?” He pointed to the biggest trunk in the grove.
“Go around to the other side and take a look.”

Her
expression shifted from wariness to interest. He leaned against the fallen log
and watched her cautious steps. It was obvious she was from the city.
Teaching
her about nature could prove enjoyable
, he mused.

“The
tree. It’s hollow. Is it still alive? How did it happen?”

Questions.
She was full of them. He could have answered her from where he sat, but like a
siren she drew him. Against his better judgment, he got up and went to her.

“Hundreds
of years ago, the forest caught fire. It burned the inside.” He put his hand on
her waist, enjoying the excuse for contact, and guided her to step inside the
hollow trunk. “Look up. You can see the sky.”

“I’ve
heard of these,” she exclaimed. “But I’ve never seen one. How does it stay
alive?”

“Redwood
bark is fire resistant.” He grasped her hand and pulled her out from the musty
interior to point upward. “When the fire came through, the bark protected all
of the trees but this one.”

“And
I bet you’re going to tell me why?” she observed while she slipped her hand
from his.

He
eyed her closely. She was playing it cool, but amusement lit up her eyes.

He
was tempted to forget the discussion and grab her. That would be too easy. He
pretended to turn his attention back to the tree.

“There
must’ve been a cut. A burning tree might’ve fallen on this one and slashed the
trunk. The fire penetrated underneath the bark and burned out the core, which
is not fire resistant.”

“So,
how does it stay alive, professor?”

The
nickname pleased him. He’d considered being a college instructor at one time –
before the war, before everything had changed.

“Since
the bark stays alive, it carries nutrients to the undamaged limbs and the tree
continues to live on.”

“It’s
like a miracle. Too bad humans couldn’t do that.”

“Do
what?” Her sudden serious expression drew his curiosity.

“Hollow
out their insides and go on living without being deformed.”

“A
man can become hollow inside and keep on living,” he told her. “But it’s
because his feelings have rotted away, not burned in a purifying sense.”

“There
must be a way.” She looked into his eyes. “Purifying oneself like that would
save a lot of grief and pain.”

“You
worry about feelings a lot, don’t you?” He led her back into the grove. “That
much concern brings more harm than good.”

“Don’t
you care for someone enough to worry about their feelings?”

“I
used to care about a lot of people.” He couldn’t stop the bitterness in his
tone.

***

What
a loaded statement that was. She itched to delve into it, but now was not the
time. Let his therapist do it. After all, this was only the first day he’d
talked to her and already they’d covered more ground than she’d normally
accomplish with her regular patients in months of weekly therapy. It said
something about Zane’s readiness for treatment. “I’ve had enough lectures for
the day.” She smiled. “How about that lunch?”

“At
your command.” He bowed and gestured toward the pack.

Margo
settled onto the forest floor and alternated between the sandwich and celery
sticks. She kept her mouth full to provide a respite from talking and give
herself time to think. Zane had not only begun discussing nonthreatening
subjects, like geography and forest lore, but he had also delved into the
personal. She should be elated but caution prevailed.

She
glanced again at the majestic trees. The grove formed a circle of serenity.
Zane sat, a part of the earthy quiet. She studied his profile, still not used
to the absence of his beard. In a way she couldn’t explain, he posed a threat
to her. It wasn’t in his magnetism or the secrets of his past; it was the quiet
strength in him, the integrity. Somehow he had the power to draw out her own
vulnerabilities, something that had never happened to her.

Zane
wanted her to talk about her fears and, strangely, she wanted to. Would telling
help?
Forget it, kiddo. Don’t even touch the lid to
that
Pandora’s
Box. Besides, no good therapist would discuss his or her own problems with a
patient.

She
finished the sandwich and started on the fruit. Now was the time to bring up
her plan, but she was reluctant to break the serenity of the moment.

“We
need to talk about the future. You’ve made a lot of progress by coming out from
behind that protective wall. You’ve opened up and discussed the past, even the
war.”

He
didn’t comment, but she observed that he’d stopped eating and his expression
had tightened.

Margo
went on. “I think you should consider coming back to the Bay Area and enrolling
in therapy sessions. There are several V.A. outreach centers that specialize in
P.T.S.D., especially for veterans of Vietnam.”

He
threw his sandwich into the bag and interrupted. “Not that again. Don’t you
understand? I’m not going back. I live here now.”

“I
won’t return, Zane. Therapy would never work between us.”

His
neck muscles corded the tighter he clenched his jaw. “You were the one who
insisted it would.”

She
wasn’t so sure now, and it had nothing to do with his decision to accept
treatment or not. It was becoming clear that she reacted to this man in more
than a professional manner. It didn’t improve the situation to know he was
physically interested in her. In this isolated setting, Margo was asking for
trouble.

Since
the new state law on dual relationships had passed, most of the psychologists
in California were very aware of the implications of a relationship between
patient and client. Under no circumstances could a therapist show an interest
in a patient for at least two years after the patient’s last treatment or
session.

California
psychologists were being closely watched. There’d been too many recent suits
filed in the state. The best thing for her to do would be to refer Zane to
another psychologist and not take any unnecessary risks.

“What
about Dr. Barlow? Can I send him here to talk to you?”

“No.
The only one I’m talking to is you. And that’s final.”

Margo
sighed. She couldn’t force him to see someone else, nor could she abandon his
case. She’d just have to keep working on him until he wore down and agreed.

Zane
picked up his sandwich, making it clear the subject was closed. Margo nibbled
on her fruit, wondering if she could indeed pull this off. Zane had walls a
mile high. It would be weeks before he handled them enough to concede to her
suggestion.

Don’t
be negative
,
she chided. She had a track record that proved she could handle stubborn
resolve. She’d get around Zane’s resistance and it wouldn’t take weeks.

“Up
to some more hiking?” Zane asked as he finished the last of his sandwich and
stuffed the wrapper in the pack.

“I
enjoy the sights, but I think my body would rather rest.”

Zane
helped her up. “Come along then. Let’s head back.”

“What
I’d really like” – she handed him her trash to stow away in the pack – “is to
say a magic word and be at the cabin. My feet are killing me.”

“Blisters?”
Sudden concern sounded in his voice. “Sit down and let’s have a look.”

“I’m
fine,” she lied, but after taking two steps she couldn’t hide the limp.
Resigned, she sat and took off her shoes.

“You
are
a tenderfoot,” he accused as he got the first-aid kit from the pack.
“We’ll have to toughen you up.”

“Why
do I get the feeling I’m never going to be the same after today?” And that was
going to be in more ways than one, she realized – emotionally as well as
physically.

Again
the sense of a threat whispered through her as she watched him settle in front
of her. He didn’t look at her but gently lifted her sore feet into his lap. She
studied the smooth angle of his jaw and wondered just how much her life was
going to change.

Thankfully,
Zane worked with impersonal efficiency. It didn’t take long to disinfect and
bandage her blisters. “I know a shortcut to get home, but it’s steep in
places,” he told her as he helped her upright. “Try that now. Do you think
you’ll make it or will I have to carry you?”

“Perfect,”
she told him before she’d even taken a step. No way would she let him carry
her.

His
skeptical glance let her know he didn’t exactly believe her, but understanding
flickered and she realized he knew exactly why she insisted on being all right.
For a moment, she thought he might make an issue of it; instead, he turned and
headed out of the grove.

“The
shortcut’s this way. Let me know if you need a rest.”

Margo
followed. Her feet felt one-hundred-percent better. “I’ll have to admit,” she
called after him, “you know what you’re doing in the first-aid department.”

“You
get training and experience with blisters when you’re in the Marines.”

“I
suppose you had lots of practice with bandages.”

“There
were lots of wounded.” He paused. “And dead.”

Had
the sight of so many wounded soldiers been the cause of his retreat into the
redwoods? His last remark almost sounded like a growl. She knew the subject was
closed when he picked up his pace and put distance between them. Margo wasn’t
disappointed. He had volunteered information about the war.

Margo
followed along on the narrow trail. The glades of redwoods they passed through
and the panoramic vistas of the rugged open spaces all added up to instill a
serenity she hadn’t felt in years. She needed this, she realized. Zane was
right; the wilderness helped you to come to terms with yourself.

The
feeling of peace grew for the next few minutes until Zane suddenly halted.
Margo caught up to him and looked around for a point of interest, his usual
reason for a stop. Nothing out of the ordinary stood out, only more steep
cliffs and forest.

“Need
some water?” He handed her the canteen.

Margo
accepted the container and drank the warm metallic liquid before handing it
back.

“I
want you to stay close to me on this next section,” he told her as he tightened
the lid of the canteen and slung it across his shoulder. “It’s very steep and
very slippery.”

Margo
followed his instructions without argument. She had no wish to end up at the
base of the steep precipice they followed. Out of her side vision she saw tangled
limbs of oak and madrone, but the bases of the trees were hidden from sight.
They were embedded hundreds of feet straight down.

Rocks
tumbled with each step. Zane moved slowly and with care, turning every few feet
to make sure she was close behind. Margo appreciated his concern. Finally he
stopped. She looked ahead and saw the narrow cut in the wall of loose shale.