Love's Miracles (41 page)

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.

“Zane,”
Margo whispered as she wrapped her arms around herself. “I love you.”

Her
words disappeared into the silence. Light waned. The trees rimmed the meadow
like dark walls. He was out there – alone; she knew he had to be. If she walked
to the dream pool or maybe the grove…but no, not in the dark.

She
could check the workshop, but because it was dark she doubted he was there.
Nevertheless, she walked to the larger of the buildings and peered inside.
There was no sign of Zane. Maybe he’d gone to the outreach center in Eureka.

A
lot of good it did to come all this way tonight
, she thought.
She wanted to talk to Zane. She had to find out how his feelings about his
blowup tied into his feelings for her. She needed to reassure herself that
there could still be love between them, but it was difficult to do when the man
had disappeared.

Maybe
he’d left for good. If he wanted to hide from her, wouldn’t he find another
place? That could be it; there was food in the kitchen and coffee in the pot on
the stove. Maybe she’d go back and heat it up. A cup of hot coffee sounded
good.

Margo
started toward the house when the sight of the shed near the edge of the woods
caught her eye. She stared. Something was different. The door was open.

Slowly
she walked toward the building that Zane had forbidden her to go near. As she
approached she heard the sound. She stopped and listened.

A
low keening drifted across the meadow, sending her pulse into a fast pace. The
chilling sound reminded her of the first time she’d come here, with the deer
crying out in pain. Only this time it sounded human.
Zane.

Heedless
of the sticks and rocks in the grass, Margo tore barefoot across the meadow. At
the entrance of the shed, she paused and tried to peer into the shadows.

Her
heart pumped painfully in her chest, but she ignored it and slowly stepped
inside the shed. Her eyes quickly adjusted to the dim light, and then she saw
it. The sight made her forget the sound that had brought her.

A
huge statue stood lifelike in the middle of the room. It filled most of the
limited space. Margo halted, suddenly afraid to see what was there.

After
taking a deep breath, she stepped closer and studied the intricate lines and
extensive detail. Now she knew with absolute certainty what Zane had been doing
all these months. She stood at a man’s feet as he lay sprawled in tangled
grass. Another man whose back was to her kneeled besides him. Both men wore
combat helmets and jungle fatigues that were carved so they looked tattered from
warfare.

Slowly
she stepped around the life-size carving, her gaze following the lines from the
man’s feet, along the length of his twisted legs to where he was held in the
arms of the kneeling man. His chest, legs, and head were wrapped with crude
bandages.

Even
in the dim light, she recognized the man on his knees – Zane. For long minutes
she stared at the features of his face. They were filled with agony and pain.
It was plain to see he felt sorrow for the man in his arms.

The
man he held had to be someone he knew; it had to be the death of a friend, the
source of his trauma. Had the man died in his arms, or had Zane found the
broken pieces and held him together?

She
looked at the man’s face and frowned. There were no features, which was strange
because the rest of the statue was carved in such fine detail. Perhaps that was
the source of the traumatic shock. Had his head been blown off?

Another
of her patients suffered terrible posttraumatic stress reactions after seeing
one of his buddies blown in half. Even to this day he couldn’t discuss how he’d
seen his friend reaching out for help, conscious and screaming in pain, only to
arrive to his aid and find that there was nothing to him below the waist. Margo
shuddered and prayed Zane wasn’t plagued by similar memories.

She
knelt beside the statue and touched the Marine’s hand where it rested on Zane’s
chest and gripped his shirt. It was smooth as if it had been polished with
hand-rubbed oils. Again her glance traveled to the faceless head, and then she
saw the gun.

She
froze, her breath caught somewhere in her throat. And then it seemed her heart
stopped beating.
No.
She wanted to deny what she saw, but the scream
lodged in her throat.

Hesitant
but unable to stop the movement, she reached toward the .38 and traced the
lines. It couldn’t be pointed at the faceless man’s head. It had to be a trick
of the light.

She
bent lower and examined the gun, the hand that held it, and the finger holding
the trigger back in the fired position. Her glance flew to the carving of
Zane’s face, and when she saw again the agony in the expression, she suddenly
knew Zane’s private hell.

She
clamped her hand over her mouth, but it didn’t stop the moan of sorrowful agony
that emerged.

A
movement by the door startled her. She swung around and tried to stand up, but
the action was too fast and she tripped, falling against the far wall. A man
shadowed the doorway, his large frame looming in the semidarkness.

“Zane.”
She could hardly speak his name.

He
emitted a low sound followed by harsh words. “You saw! You know!”

Margo
flattened against the wall. Every cell in her body registered danger. Mentally
and physically she prepared for what she’d been trained to do in situations
like this. She started to speak, but before the words could be uttered Zane
swung around and staggered out of the shed.

Stunned,
Margo stared after him. Then she knew what he was doing: running again, hiding
from the truth.

Raw
anger took control. No longer was she a rational psychologist. She wasn’t even
a woman in love. At this point she was too furious to be either. Zane was not
going to run away.

Margo
rose and charged after him. He hadn’t gone far. She reached him easily and
began beating him on the back with her fists.

“You
coward! Don’t you dare run from this and hide away! I won’t let you.”

He
swung around to face her, his hands swiping at her fists as if they were a
pesky insect. It infuriated her more.

“You’re
just like my father! A quitter. Why don’t you just do like he did and take a
gun and shoot yourself?”

“Don’t
think it hasn’t crossed my mind.”

Her
temper broke. The last shred of sanity disappeared as she put all her weight
into her thrust and slapped him across the face. Zane staggered backward,
clutching his jaw. He stared, and then he charged.

Margo
screamed, but it was too late. All of a sudden she was flat on her back and
pinned to the ground. She struggled, but he was too big and strong. Her efforts
to escape were useless. With one hand he pinned both of hers above her head.

The
anger had disappeared, the fury had dissolved; in its place loomed fear. Again
she struggled, trying to free her hands. When she almost got one loose, he
grabbed it with his other hand. She twisted, trying to free herself. With a
hand around each wrist he slammed them into the ground and leaned forward,
pinning her with the weight of his shoulders.

His
face loomed above, the angles and planes harsh in the last rays of light. Anger
and hatred gleamed in his eyes, but they seemed more against himself than her.

“No,
Zane,” she panted. “Let me go.”

He
grinned, the slash across his face ugly and feral. She started to edge away
from him, but he slung his leg over her thighs, the hard thrust bruising her
muscles.

She
was helpless and couldn’t match the power in him; power that was fueled by
guilt, shame, and anger. Regret set in. She fought for freedom.

“Please
don’t do this,” she cried. “Not like this. Not with anger and hate.”

***

Zane
snarled, her words making him more furious. She’d exposed him, seen his sin.
She’d pay for that.

Filled
with hatred now, he thought about fastening his hand around her throat. He
shook his head to clear the sweat from his eyes. He blinked and then stared.

Her
face was so beautiful and pure. It was everything he wanted. He couldn’t have
it because of what he’d done. Waves of loneliness, despair, and guilt washed
through him.

She
stopped struggling and stared at him. Her eyes grew wide.

Suddenly
he paused.
Good God.
What was he doing? His body started trembling. He
glanced back at the shed and then at Margo. He’d killed his best friend, a
friend he’d loved. Now he was doing it again.

Horrified,
he stared down at her face. Her hair splayed on the wet grass. Her skin, damp
from tears, glistened in the dusk. Her lips were drawn tight – lips he’d kissed
with love.

He
jerked his hands free. With a cry of anguish he struggled upright, closing his
eyes to the sight of torture he’d inflicted in a moment of blind rage. She
didn’t deserve this. He was the one who should be punished.

All
the furies of hell were after him. He ran and didn’t look back. Tears welled
and blinded him as he tore into the woods.

***

For
endless seconds, Margo lay unmoving in the grass as she listened to the heavy
tread of Zane’s footsteps as he charged into the forest. This time she didn’t
try and stop him. With cold certainty she knew Zane had wanted to kill her.
Tears streaked down the sides of her face and into her tangled hair.

It
was her fault; she’d provoked him, she admitted that. Knowing it didn’t ease
the remnants of pain still chasing through her heart.

The
crash of Zane’s footsteps became swallowed in the dark forest. The meadow grew
silent as if it had never been filled with the grunts and cries of struggle.
She became aware of the chill from the cold and wet ground creeping deeper into
her body.

Slowly
she struggled upright, ignoring the pain from her bruises. Relief was too
overwhelming for her to care, but slipping into the relief was a growing
concern. Where was Zane going? What would he do now?

A
small whimper escaped as she attempted to rise and pull her wet and rumpled
clothes back into place. Finally she straightened and stared at the path Zane
had taken – toward the dream pool. She should follow him; find him before he
went too far into himself to ever come back.

She
took a step and hesitated. Darkness had settled during their struggle. She
could scarcely make out the path. Overhead, a full moon provided the only
illumination. Behind her the cabin beckoned in the moonlight, safe and secure.
She could see the dim glow of the candles through the window.

Zane
would come back; he would have to. She’d wait until he did and then they could
talk. Reluctantly she turned toward the cabin and headed in the direction of
the light.

She
paused. Had she heard a sound, or was it her imagination? Again she stared at
the wall of trees, its darkness eerie and threatening. Zane was in there. She
could almost hear his cries of agony.