Love's Miracles (43 page)

The
horror unfolded and Margo forgot to notice the pain of his grip. Her mind
traveled to the jungles on the other side of the world where she relived the
sordid details of Zane’s description.

***

It
was as if he were there. No longer was he aware of the woman beside him, nor
the redwood trees that towered above in a protective ring. He was back in time,
back in the hell of his nightmare of reality and dreams.

The
last refrain of the song mingled with the shouts as Charlie closed in. Zane
tore his gaze from Al’s and looked around to see Vietcong, dressed in black,
forming a circle around him and Al.

Someone
shouted, but he didn’t understand the lingo. It didn’t matter. He knew what the
man wanted.

Inside
he screamed his protest, but he said nothing. He glanced back at Al. Their eyes
locked.

“Friends
we’ll be forever,” he whispered as he pulled the trigger of the gun.

The
shot rang out and silenced the men surrounding him. He lifted the gun to his
own head, but before he could pull the trigger a sharp pain flashed through his
skull and welcome blackness overtook him.

Zane
shook his head as he took in his surroundings. Across the sandbar, the pools in
the river reflected the moonlit ferns lining the edge. He took deep breaths and
focused on the peace. Absorbing the stillness of the redwood forest was
something he had learned to do years ago.

As
he calmed, awareness of Margo’s presence grew. Her fingers entwined with his.
The heat from her body warmed his side. He could hear the steady rhythm of her
breathing.

He
glanced toward her, but it was too dark to make out her features. He could see
white skin gleaming here and there on her body, reminding him of what he’d done
back at the shed. It was just as well he couldn’t see her face; he couldn’t
bear the sight of condemnation and revulsion.

He
couldn’t do anything to erase it now. It was too late; she knew his sin. At
least she’d been right about one thing: Talking about the past had helped in
some strange way. The guilt didn’t seem so overwhelming now, but there was
more. She had to know all of it.

He
felt her start when he began talking again. He squeezed her hand, more to
bolster his courage than to reassure her.

“The
worst part of it was, it didn’t have to happen.”

“I’m
sure none of the deaths were planned.” Her voice was low and even, not
revealing any clues to her feelings. “It’s the hell of war.”

“You
don’t understand. I was knocked unconscious, but by the time I woke up we had
been rescued. A reconnaissance team had moved into the area. They’d been
tracking the enemy. My gunshot brought them on the double.”

Zane
braced himself to continue. “If I’d only hung on for a few more minutes, Al
would still be alive.”

“Are
you sure? His wounds were infected. He’d lost blood.”

“I’ve
asked myself that question a hundred times in the night. It doesn’t matter. If
I hadn’t shot him, we’d know the answer.”

“I
can understand your feelings. I suppose if I were in your shoes, the same
question would run through my mind.”

He
could hear the genuine empathy in her voice. Warmth from her hand traveled to
his, touching every raw nerve. She did that to him – lifted his feelings right
out of the depths of his soul.

“For
a long time it was hard to face anyone. I had to break my engagement with Rita.
She was Al’s sister. I had promised her I’d bring him back safe and unharmed.”

She
shifted and then positioned herself to face him. “That was a promise you
couldn’t be expected to keep. Don’t you see that? You can’t blame yourself for
what happened.”

“My
father blamed me. He never came out and said it, but I always knew he thought I
should’ve gotten Al out of there.”

Resentment
unfurled to chase away the semblance of calm he’d managed to achieve. He let go
of her hand and rubbed the stubble of his beard, suddenly feeling tired and
beaten. “In a way it was my fault.

“It
was my idea to go out that morning. You see, the two others wanted to stay
holed up. I wanted to try and make it back to base.”

He
paused as memories again took him back in time. How often over the years had he
replayed this scene, wishing it could have been different, yet at the same time
knowing he’d do it again?

“Anyway,
those two got all spooked. Didn’t want to go. I insisted and Al backed me up.”

He
waited for her to comment. When she didn’t he continued. “Al objected at first.
But I talked him into it.”

Again
he waited. Again there was silence. “If we’d stayed in hiding we would’ve been
rescued.”

Her
cry broke the silence and in that instant she was in his arms. “You and Al made
a decision. It was right for the time you made it.”

He
wrapped his arms around her, absorbing the warmth from her body. “It was too
big of a sacrifice. Al’s life. The other two men.”

“No,
you can’t say that. You were willing to give yours.”

“But
Al wasn’t willing. He didn’t want to go and he’s the one who bought it.”

He
couldn’t see, but her hands were on his face again. “Don’t you understand? All
the should-have-beens don’t matter. It’s what did happen that counts. Maybe
they wouldn’t have survived like you did.”

“I
wish to God I hadn’t.”

“Don’t
ever say that. What would
my
life be like without knowing you?”

“You
can ask that after what I did to you back there?”

“You
stopped, Zane. You never hurt me.”

He
started to protest, but she grasped his face again. “I love you,” she
whispered, and then her lips covered his.

He
remained still, unable to absorb the shock and surprise. This wasn’t real, it
couldn’t be happening – not after what he’d done to her, not after what she
knew. What kind of torture was this? He tried to draw back.

“No.
Don’t pull away from me.” She wrapped her arms around his neck so that he
couldn’t move.

“I
don’t deserve this,” he murmured.

She
clung to him and buried her face in his neck. Her breath was hot on his skin
while she went on and on.

“You
and Al went on that mission. It was war, Zane. Al died. He wouldn’t fault you
for that.”

“But
I
killed him.”

“He
was wounded. They would have tortured him. Did you honestly want that to
happen?”

“No.
I…”

“Forgive
yourself and be done with this shame. You have to remember the positive
aspects.”

She
didn’t know what she was talking about. He wished it was as easy as she made it
sound.

“You
saved many men. You saved Al from torture. You survived. And if your survival
doesn’t mean anything to you, I’m telling you it means everything to me.”

The
vehemence in her voice was no surprise. Margo was a fighter. Her father had
given her a bum rap, but she hadn’t let that get her down. No, she fought right
back, helping others and making her own sacrifices. He had a feeling she
refused to let any of her patients give up. Maybe he should consider the
example she set.

But
there was still the matter of his violence. “You know that what happened at the
shed…”

“Shh,
shh.” She put her finger to his lips.

He
grabbed her shoulders and gave her a shake. “I tried to
hurt
you. I
wanted to
kill
you.”

He
wanted to pull her into his arms and comfort her, yet she had to know the
truth.

“I
read all those studies.
Remember
? You gave me enough of them. It’s the
syndrome. You don’t know what will set me off.”

“We’ll
deal with it as it comes. Once you start therapy again you’ll gain more
control.”

“I
could hurt you. I don’t want to do that.”

She
gripped his shoulders and shook him, much like he’d just done to her. “I know
what could happen. I’m a psychologist. But those things are physical. Even if
you don’t stop yourself in time, you’ll only hurt my body.”

She
paused to take a breath and grip his shoulders tighter. He flinched from the
force of her determination.

“But
hear me, Dominic Zanelli. If you run away and hide again, if you leave me,
you’ll do more than physical damage. You’ll tear apart my soul.”

He
reached up and smoothed back her hair from her face, memorizing her features by
touch. “Do you mean that?”

Her
cry became muffled as she punctuated her “yes” with another kiss. This time
Zane opened up to her and let her love and caring pour into his shell of a body
and begin to fill the empty holes.

He
wrapped his arms around her and shifted her against his chest. She fit into his
embrace like she was made to be there. Maybe she was. He was finally beginning
to believe that she was right. Maybe there was a chance for him.

***

Margo
didn’t know how much strength she had left in her, but she held onto Zane with
every ounce she had. She’d been so afraid that she’d lost him for good. He’d
gone deep within himself, into his private hell, and there were moments this
past couple of hours when she thought he’d gone past the point of no return.
But he was here, holding her.

His
arms tightened and then his touch gentled. She curved closer, needing to feel
every part of him, needing to be reassured that he was there.

For
several minutes she just stayed there in his arms, absorbing the masculine
smell and heat of him, listening to the thump of his heart. Would she ever get
enough of this man?

He
traced his fingers up and down her back in a lazy motion that gentled the aches
in her heart. She wanted more from him, much more, but there would be time.
Right now they needed these moments of peace.

The
night song played for them. A melody of crickets and the loud cry of frogs
mingled with the splash of water from the falls. The moon had tracked across
the sky, and its beams found their way under the redwood giant.

“I
love you,” she whispered. “Promise me we’ll always have this.”

He
didn’t answer. She tilted her head back and saw the doubts and uncertainty in
his expression. She cupped the side of his face.

“Is
a promise so hard to give?”

He
shook his head and then turned into her palm and kissed it. “Promises? I don’t
know if I can keep them.”

“You
can if you learn to forgive and to love.”

“The
miracles you’re always talking about?”

She
nodded.

“The
forgiving will take some work, but the loving…” He sighed. “I do love you,
Margo.”

She
smiled as she placed her head back on his chest. Yes, more than one of love’s
miracles had happened tonight.

Two
years later.

For
the fifth time Margo checked the pumpkin pies in the oven. In spite of the
spicy aroma of cinnamon and nutmeg filling the large kitchen, they still
weren’t done. According to the clock they wouldn’t be ready for another ten
minutes. She’d check them anyway.

Where
was Zane? He should have been home an hour ago. She looked at the clock again
and forced herself not to open the oven door until the timer went off.

He’d
be home any time now. He probably got stuck in a traffic jam. After all, it was
the day before Thanksgiving, and that meant a monumental exodus to and from the
Bay Area. She could imagine what the traffic looked like – probably as bad as
her kitchen.

Margo
glanced around at the piles of dirty dishes, spice containers, and boxes of
ingredients ready to be fixed tomorrow. She supposed she should clean up, but
the thought didn’t appeal to her.

Margo
went to the living room window and glanced out at the meadow. She wasn’t
worried about Zane making the trip. He wouldn’t have a choice but to drive
carefully with Gloria and Bettina along to back-seat drive. Zane found it
easier to comply with their demands for a slow pace than to argue the point.

What
had her uptight was her curiosity about Rita. Had Zane’s visit worked out? Zane
needed to talk to his former fiancée, needed to tell her about her brother’s
death. It was a good indicator of Zane’s mental health to know he could
voluntarily do this.

The
timer rang and Margo hurried back to the kitchen. Heat flushed her skin when
she bent to take the golden pies out of the oven. They were beautiful and
smelled delicious. She couldn’t help puffing up with pride. Wait until Zane saw
them, she thought. He’d have to eat his words about her cooking ability.

She
went to the hall and looked in the mirror. Her dark brown hair curved around
her chin, framing her face. She still looked the same as she had two years ago
– except for the laugh lines beside her eyes; those hadn’t been there before.