Love's Miracles (5 page)

“I’m
not talking to a shrink.” His words were clipped, cold. “There’s nothing wrong
with me.”

On
first impression, she’d agree with him. He had been calm, rational, and very
much in control when handling the emergency with the deer and now with her. Of
course, appearances could be deceiving. He was very controlled.

“Fifteen
minutes, and I go back and reassure Vinnie.”

He
was listening. Margo headed for the stairs.

In
two strides he caught up with her. “Fifteen minutes. No more. And I’m not
answering questions I don’t want to.”

“Of
course. Can we sit down inside?”

He
wasn’t pleased. He probably suspected she’d guess things about him when she saw
the inside of his house, which was exactly what she intended to do. Without
waiting for an invitation, Margo climbed up the plank steps.

Inside
the house and across the spacious room, she spied a redwood table of
beautifully carved burl. Several magazines were on top:
National Wildlife
,
American Zoologist
,
Animal Kingdom
. Margo straightened and
observed the large prints of endangered species framed on the wall. So animals
interested him? She could work with that if he agreed to treatment.

Zane
went to the kitchen sink to wash up and gestured to the bathroom for her. Margo
took one look in the mirror and shuddered. Blood was spattered all over her
sweater. She might as well write that one off, she thought as she returned to
the living area.

While
she seated herself on the couch, he strode to the natural rock fireplace that
extended to the ceiling and braced one foot on the hearth. Margo had to admire
the pose. His jeans tightened across his legs. The Pendleton hung loose, giving
him a deceptively casual look. The inn clerk’s description came to mind: earthy
and handsome, yet dangerous.

Even
though he was splattered with blood he didn’t seem dangerous in a physical
sense, she decided as she tilted her head and studied his profile. But he did
seem hazardous to be involved with. She could picture women easily falling for
him with just one glance from those blue eyes. He slid her one of those looks
now from under hooded lids.

“Fifteen
minutes. No more.”

Right.
She crossed her legs and perched her notepad on her knee. She’d give him the
Macy’s credit card approach – begin by asking general-information questions to
relax his guard. He held too much back.

She
wrote his name across the top. “Dominic Zanelli. Does everyone call you Zane?”

He
nodded.

“Is
it a derivative of Zanelli?”

He
nodded again.

“Where
were you born?”

“San
Francisco.”

By
the time fifteen minutes had passed, she’d gone through the vital statistics. A
quick glance showed he’d relaxed his stance a bit. Good. Normal reaction. And
he hadn’t noticed the time.

“When
were you in Vietnam?”

She
wrote down the dates, noting his position had not changed.

“You
saw a lot of combat. I imagine you had many traumatic experiences.”

This
time he reacted. It wasn’t outward, but more of something she sensed. Maybe it
was the way he braced his hand on his knee. She set her pad beside her and used
her quiet, reassuring tone.

“You
were in a high-stress position. The fatality rate for helicopter personnel was
high. Most didn’t live out their tour of duty.”

He
looked away from her and stared out the window. “You have no idea what it was
like over there.”

Margo
didn’t flinch from the bitter tone. This too was a common reaction.

“I
don’t pretend to know. But I did my training in the V.A. Center in Palo Alto. I
worked there with fifty to a hundred vets who suffered from posttraumatic
stress disorder.

“I
don’t want to get into this, but I bet you have some of the common symptoms –
nightmares and irregular sleep patterns. I bet when a Huey flies overhead the
sound of the chopper brings back memories. Maybe that is one of the reasons
you’ve decided to stay here in the woods.”

He
didn’t answer, but his fist was clenched on his knee. A quick glance at her
watch showed she’d been talking for almost half an hour. He hadn’t noticed the
time. The subject had his attention, but she didn’t want to lose his trust.

“I’ve
already talked longer than you allowed, so I’ll be going now.” She gathered her
papers and stood while stuffing them in her bag. “Many times the reactions are
delayed. They show up after you’d thought the subject forgotten. That causes
stress in itself.”

He
swung around, surprised that she looked ready to leave. Margo grabbed the
literature she’d brought and approached.

“I’m
staying at the Fort Bragg Inn if you want to discuss any of this further. For
now I’ll leave these pamphlets for you to read. It describes symptoms of
posttraumatic stress disorder – P.T.S.D. You see, it’s so common they’ve even
given it a name.”

Her
smile was reassuring as she handed him the pamphlets, but it froze on her face
when he straightened and stared into her eyes.

“You’re
going to be on your way all right. You’re going to climb into that Bronco,
forget the shrink stuff, and get out of here.
Don’t ever come back
.”

Margo
placed the reading material in his grasp. “Many people have difficulty sharing
their personal concerns with a doctor of the opposite sex. If the fact that I’m
a woman distracts you, I can refer you to a male psychologist.” Fred came to
mind and she concentrated on him in order to ignore Zane’s gaze. “In fact, the
V.A. Center might be a good bet for you. Interaction with other vets has proven
very successful for some men. The doctor is a veteran also and can relate to
your problems.”

He
shifted pamphlets to balance on his hip. “I don’t have any problems, remember?”

Margo
shrugged. “You probably don’t. But it’s always good to know where assistance is
in case the need arises.”

It
was time to make a move. She excused herself to use the bathroom. Zane set the
pamphlets on the table, strode out the door, and stopped by the rough plank
rail.

Margo
hesitated, observing the fit condition of his body as he stretched. His arms
reached skyward while he rotated his head. Living in the wilderness certainly
hadn’t harmed his physical condition. Even though he was sweaty and covered
with blood, she was aware of a definite beauty in him. Seeing him in this
rugged environment and looking as primitive as he did, it was hard to picture
him in a business suit sitting in an office. Then again, Vinnie had said he
spent most of his time at the docks or on the boats. That was easier for Margo
to picture.

After
freshening up, Margo followed him back outside and paused on the porch to
glance up at the sky. The sun was low on the horizon, casting long shadows across
the meadow. She wouldn’t like driving that road in the dark. She’d better get
going so that she could make it to town before sunset.

“I’d
like to return tomorrow and answer any questions about the material.”

He
didn’t respond and she didn’t press him. At least he was contemplating the
suggestion. His grip tightened on the rail before he lifted heavy-lashed eyes.
“You can come out here, but I’m not talking.”

Margo
bristled with annoyance but didn’t let it show.

He
stepped closer; too close. “Forget the shrink bit. The war was years ago. And I
detest the big play for attention that the vet issue is going for now. I went.
I served. I handled it.”

“So
why are you here?”

“Enjoying
life.”

She
glanced across the meadow. It was an island refuge surrounded by miles of dense
forest. Giant redwood trees stood guard against the world.

Right.
Something was hurting inside Zane. It wasn’t anything she could pinpoint. He’d
had no outward sign of delayed stress. She sensed it. He held too much in; kept
his body too much in check. That kind of hiding covered a lot of inner pain.

“We’ll
talk tomorrow.”

***

The
door to the Fort Bragg Inn opened with a soft chime. The expression on the
clerk’s face changed from welcome to horror as she eyed Margo’s bloodstained
clothes.

“I
knew it. You didn’t listen and you went out there.” She came storming around
the end of the counter to drape a reassuring arm across Margo’s shoulders.

Margo
was too exhausted to resist the familiarity from a stranger.

“It
was that man, wasn’t it? What’d he do to you?”

Margo
sat down on the carved deacon’s bench and breathed a sigh of relief. “Nobody
did anything to me.”

“Look
at you. You’re covered with blood and your face is deathly pale.” Her fingers
felt warm as she laid them across Margo’s brow.

“It
was the road,” Margo managed to explain as she thought of the twists and turns
and steep drops down sheer cliffs. “That drive took ten years off my life.”

“The
road? But you’re covered with blood. Did you have an accident? Are you hurt?”

“I’m
fine, but I could sure use some of that coffee.”

Margo
didn’t feel guilty about the woman waiting on her. The aroma was putting some
zip into her and she could imagine what the taste would do. The clink of real
china was a welcome sound, especially followed by the splash of poured liquid.
Margo focused on that instead of her chatter.

“I
can’t understand it. From what I’ve heard around town the Zanelli boys used to
be real nice. Now…” She handed Margo the cup and saucer. “I better call the
sheriff.”

Margo
straightened as she took the cup. “Don’t do that. All I need is a bath and…”

“The
law should know if there’s been any violence. By the way, my name’s Nan.”

“Please
call me Margo,” she answered as the coffee warmed her tense muscles and brought
a surge of energy. Then Margo quickly told her about the deer.

“A
deer you say.” Nan’s eyes were wide and attentive. “Seems hard to believe that
he would be taking care of an injured creature. I’d be figuring him to be
doing
the harm. I know they used to hunt all the time. Used to come up every fall.”

Margo
would have liked to continue the conversation, especially because Nan had made
reference to Zane’s past. But not now. Any information she gleaned would go
through one ear and out the other. Maybe in the morning after a good night’s
sleep.

Margo
stood and set the cup on the antique sideboard against the far wall. “Thanks
for the coffee.” She stretched her stiff muscles. “I’m going to take a hot bath
and rest before dinner.”

Thoughts
of the large porcelain tub with old-fashioned legs spurred her to her room.
When she got there, she quickly shed her stained clothes, and in minutes the
remodeled bathroom was filled with hot steam and scented with her favorite bath
oil.

It
felt as good as she had imagined. The soothing heat chased away the last
remnants of stress from the trying day. With her head against the curved back
of the tub, Margo stared at the delicate blue flowers on the old-fashioned
wallpaper. Her thoughts drifted to Zane.

In
their brief encounter he managed to touch the instinctive part of her that had
inspired her toward psychology. His brash manners were an attempt to cover up
the sensitive spots that could make him vulnerable. Did he know it hadn’t
worked? She’d seen too much while he tended the deer. Not only of the caring
side of him but also the brief glimpses of pain and suffering that had flashed
in his eyes.

From
the little Margo knew of his past history of brief relationships and a recent
short-term marriage that ended in divorce, he’d probably frozen his emotions inside
of him. It showed in his seeming inability to get close to others; his
self-imposed isolation. It all pointed to a man unable to live fully in the
present because he was a prisoner of the past experiences that he hadn’t faced.
Most likely he had a secret – one he hadn’t let himself think about.

“So
he needs therapy.” Margo shifted under the aromatic bubbles. “Now to get him to
accept it.”

With
a plan to spur her on, Margo finished her bath and slipped into her ivory silk
robe. After ordering coffee from room service, she carefully placed her
briefcase on the delicate table next to the window and reached for the phone.
It didn’t take much effort to get through to Vinnie Zanelli.

“Did
he agree to come in for treatment?” Vinnie’s voice crackled and Margo guessed
the inn’s wiring must be old.

“It’s
too early for that. I’m going back out there tomorrow.”

“I’ll
be down to go with you. I’ll arrive early in the morning. Can you pick me up at
the airport?”

Margo
considered his request with mixed emotions. Originally she’d wanted Vinnie to
accompany her. But now that she’d made contact she didn’t feel she needed him
along. In fact, he could hamper the situation. But when she suggested Vinnie
not come, he adamantly insisted.