Love's Miracles (9 page)

All
she needed was some time to let him see that she was no threat. If she could
get him to open more, his resistance might crumble, at least toward her
presence. That was all the start she needed. Zane wanted to talk; he just
didn’t want to admit it.

After
sitting for a few more minutes, she stretched and went to the back porch and stepped
outside. It was a gorgeous day. She should take advantage of the clean air and
sunshine. Her glance traveled across the yard to the other buildings. His
carvings. Could she talk him into showing her his work?

She
started to walk down the steps but paused. A quick glance out front assured her
that Zane and Vinnie were occupied. Their heads were bent under the hood of the
Bronco, probably checking the oil and water. If she could get a quick look at
what he did, she might be able to start up a conversation.

Tall
grass brushed against the cuffs of her slacks as she crossed the clearing. The
mountain air felt crisp and invigorating, but Margo barely noticed. Her pulse
beat at a quicker pace as she hurried toward the larger building, feeling like
a trespasser. It crossed her mind to turn back, but determination to find a way
to get to Zane spurred her on.

She
came to a wall and walked around the corner. There she stopped in surprise. The
whole side was a window with a sliding glass door.

More
curious than ever now, she stepped up to the glass and peered inside. Margo
gasped at the carvings that were everywhere. The three solid walls were lined
with shelves and filled with carved wooden figures. They looked like animals,
but she couldn’t tell for sure.

What
therapy
,
she thought. In his own manner, he’d found a way to ease the aches inside.

It
was her strong belief that creativity was therapeutic, especially in the cases
of the men and women she worked with. After involvement in destruction and
death, they needed to create and reestablish in their minds a sense of beauty.
It was why she wanted to develop her retreat. For a long time it had been a
dream of hers to form a center where her patients could visit or stay if they
needed to and learn the fine arts – see the beauty of nature.

Margo
headed back to the cabin. She hardly noticed the wildflowers or the hum of
insects. Her mind raced as she threaded her way through the tall grass. There
was definitely hope for Zane. He’d made a lot of progress on his own. As she
walked, her mind churned with ideas of how to approach him about his work.
Maybe she could convince him to teach carving. There were many service
organizations that could use volunteers. Meeting people wasn’t so threatening
if you had something to offer them. It could be a way to ease his return to the
city and into the mainstream.

Back
inside, Margo settled onto her stool to finish her coffee. The old song she’d
heard that morning at the inn came back to mind and she quietly began to sing.
“Forget mistakes of yesterday. We’ll dream another dream. Tomorrow discover
truth and promise.”

She
loved the music from the sixties. The emotion of the social issues of that time
sounded in the melody.

“On
the tides of destination, friends we’ll be forever.”

“Stop
that!”

The
sharp command boomed like a shot. Margo spun around. Her empty mug slipped from
her fingers and crashed with a frightening clatter on the floor. Zane stood by
the bar, his face ashen and his fists clenching and unclenching. Wild fury
sparked from cobalt eyes.

“What?”
Margo tried to get the word out over the sudden lump of concern in her throat.
What was wrong? He took a step toward her. She backed up against the counter,
never taking her eyes from him.

“Don’t
ever sing that song in here again,” he growled.

What
was wrong with “Forever Friends”? Had it triggered an attack of posttraumatic
stress disorder? The psychologist in her swung into gear, erasing the fear. “I
won’t sing it anymore,” she promised in a steady voice.

His
chest heaved. Slowly, she eased off the stool and made her way down the counter
toward him. “I don’t want to do anything to disturb you,” she soothed, much the
same way he’d done to the deer yesterday. “You’re obviously upset. So let’s sit
down and talk this out. I just want to help.”

“
No!
”
he exploded and came at her. In the last split second, he shifted direction and
tore further into the kitchen. With a sweep of his arm he pushed the dishes
onto the floor. The noise echoed in the deathly still room.

Margo
didn’t move. Her glance remained glued to Zane in readiness. Would he get
violent toward her? Where was Vinnie? Had he heard the noise, and would he
charge in and complicate the situation?

“I
don’t want your help,” Zane told her between huge gulps of breath. “Just get
out of here and never come back.”

Margo
knew better than to argue. Zane was in no condition to reason with. Slowly she
stepped toward him. “No problem,” she assured him. She didn’t want him to feel
trapped.

He
nodded with a grunt. Then for a brief instant, pain flickered across his face.
Without warning he charged past her and headed toward the back porch. The heavy
wooden door bounced off the wall as he slammed through it.

Not
thinking, but reacting to his pain, Margo took off after him. “Zane! Wait!”

“Don’t
run away from this,” she called after his retreating back.

He
didn’t respond or even hesitate but hurried to his workshop. Even from this
distance, she could see he was upset as he rounded the corner of the building.
Not surprising, she thought, in light of what had just happened in the kitchen.

She
approached the building. They had to discuss this before he retreated into his
isolated world. She heard the glass door slide shut.

It
was too late.

“Zane,”
she called.

Hammering
sounded through the walls. Margo fought the frustration. She wasn’t about to
give in so easily; not after what she’d just witnessed. She started toward the
corner where Zane had disappeared.

“Margo!”

Vinnie’s
shout brought her up short. She turned to see Zane’s brother clamoring down the
steps. It was just what she didn’t need.

“What
happened? I heard the racket. There’re dishes all over the place.”

Instead
of responding, Margo headed toward Vinnie. The tall grass brushed against her
legs until she made it to a clearing. Out of breath and panting, Vinnie
approached and stopped.

“You
all right? Where’s Zane?”

Briefly
she told him what had happened. “Has he done this before?”

“Never
here.” Vinnie shook his head and clenched his fists. “I’d better go talk to
him.”

“But
he
has
done this?”

“Not
exactly. I mean…” He paused, clearly distressed.

Margo
needed to know more information, but she’d need to hear it from Zane. “You can
tell me later. I think it’s best if I talk with him. This isn’t unusual…”

Vinnie
grabbed her shoulder. Anger and frustration radiated. “No. You go back to the
cabin and wait. It’s time now for me and Zane.”

His
fingers tightened and a determined light glittered in his blue eyes – so like
Zane’s yet so different. Margo stepped back.

“I
have to disagree with you.” Her voice soothed. “Zane needs a professional now –
not hassles with a concerned brother. I know you love him and are terribly
worried, but the best thing you can do is to let me deal with him.”

Vinnie
grimaced.

Margo
placed her hand on Vinnie’s forearm and squeezed. “It’s what you hired me to
do. I’m trained for this.”

For
seconds Vinnie stared. Margo could sense the war of emotions. Vinnie loved his
brother, but his patience had run out. Finally, he took a deep breath and
dropped his hands. “Give me an hour alone.”

“I
can’t do that. It would be better if you gave me an hour alone.”

After
a quick glance of encouragement, Margo turned and headed for the workshop.
Behind her, Vinnie rustled through the grass.

What
had caused such an explosion? Her singing? Odd. But then she’d learned not to
be surprised by a patient’s reaction. The mind could play devious tricks. “I’ll
get to the bottom of this yet,” she muttered.

Isolation
and loneliness were issues here. Also her presence. It had been months since
he’d been around a woman. But that had to be only part of it. It was now
obvious that something traumatic had happened to Zane and music figured into
it. Interesting.

Margo
approached the corner of the workshop. The familiar stirring of excitement
tugged on her senses. But just as she rounded the corner, Vinnie charged from
behind her and grabbed her. “No. I can’t let you go in there. He could hurt
you.” His breath came in gasps as he physically set her away from the workshop.
“Stay here.”

Before
Margo could reason with him, he headed for the door.

Quickly
Margo grasped his arm. “Vinnie…”

He
turned and shoved her back before slamming the glass door shut. Margo grasped
the handle, but it was too late. The lock clicked into place.

“Let
me in!”
Drat!
Vinnie was going to make a real mess of the situation now.

***

Zane
clenched his fists against the urge to throw down the block of partly carved
wood he was working on. Why didn’t they leave him alone? Hadn’t he made it
clear he wanted them to butt out?

“Go
home, Vinnie. Get her out of here. I don’t want her around me.”

“Maybe
you don’t want her, but she’s needed.”

Anger
flared and Zane welcomed it. Better the temper than the pain.

“It’s
time, Zane. I’ve tried to be patient. Lord knows, I’ve prayed you’d work this
out on your own.” Vinnie moved through the shafts of sunlight pouring into the
room. “It’s been months since you’ve been back home. Months of heartache and
worry and guilt.”

“Guilt?”
The word tore through him. His defenses immediately rose another notch.

“You’re
hiding from us. We don’t know what we’ve done.”

Zane
slammed his fist on the workbench. The force jarred up his arm and settled into
the knotted muscle of his shoulder. They didn’t understand. They never would.
“Just stop it, Vinnie. Go on home to your family – your job. You’ve got
everything you want. You don’t need me.”

“It’s
your home too. Your family. Your job. We can…”

“I
don’t want any part of it!”

His
shout brought a halt to Vinnie’s progress. Zane saw the raw emotion flash in
his brother’s eyes: anger, impatience, even hate. He’d never seen that before.
Suddenly he was afraid. Vinnie was his only link to the world. His fear formed
a lump in his throat. He tried to swallow.

Vinnie’s
chest heaved as he tried to leash his feelings, but he had lost the battle. Zane
struggled not to recoil when Vinnie started shouting.

“We
don’t deserve this Zane! We were close. We did things as a family. Now you
treat us like we’re a plague. It’s enough.”

Plague?
Didn’t Vinnie know that
he
was the disease? Not them. Zane shut his
eyes. He couldn’t bear to see the agony on his brother’s face. It mirrored his
own.

The
banging on the window didn’t help. He could hear her determined pleas to unlock
the door. He blocked out the sound. He didn’t need doors opened – he needed
them slammed shut.

“Listen
to me. You need help. Devaull is good. You’re going to work with her starting
today.”

Zane’s
eyes shot open and he glared with the hardness it had taken him years to
perfect. “Orders, Vinnie?” His words were measured and slow, which should have
been a warning. But Vinnie ignored it.

“Someone
needs to give them. I’m sick to here” – he shoved his fist under his chin –
“with your cowardice and yellow-belly hiding from yourself. Face up to it. Be a
man.”

A
low growl started in Zane’s throat and erupted into a shout that matched the
explosion in his head. He charged. Vinnie took the full force of his weight as
they tumbled on the floor.

Wood
chips scattered with the impact. Vinnie rolled Zane off his body and they
smashed against the workbench. Pieces of wood, chisels, and other tools
clattered to the floor around them. A hammer landed on Zane’s shoulder, but he
hardly noticed. His emotions were filled with rage – pent-up rage that hadn’t
been released in years; rage he didn’t realize he still had.

Fists
flew and pain shot through Zane’s skull as several punches connected. His
knuckles began to numb. If only his brain would too.

Time
suspended, yet it raced. The room echoed with grunts of pain and the thuds of
flesh making contact with flesh. Each swing brought release. Zane wanted more.
Vinnie’s fists came at him. Zane tried to dodge, but the quick movement brought
his head up against the corner of a shelf. Vinnie’s knuckles sank into his jaw.