Love's Miracles (14 page)

Impatient
to return to the center and assimilate this revealing information, Margo forced
herself to sit through the rest of the meal. When it was obvious no one was
going to eat any more, she made her excuses to return to work.

Gloria
insisted on treating the women as her guests. She smiled graciously when Margo
and Bettina departed. And why shouldn’t she? She’d accomplished her mission.
Margo shook her head, realizing she’d been maneuvered – something that rarely
happened to her.

As
she drove her Cutlass Supreme across the Bay Bridge she forced herself to
reconsider the emotional involvement in this case. Her interest in Dominic
Zanelli was beginning to cross professional lines. She kept discovering an
insatiable need to know this man. If she was honest with herself, she’d admit
her interest stemmed from a deeper level than she was comfortable with.

What
strange pull did Zane have on her mind? At odd hours she’d be thinking of him.
The look in his eyes haunted her. Maybe she should back out of this case.
Whenever she logically considered that option, her emotions would step in and
reject it. She simply had to deal with this interest in Zane.

Margo
pulled into the basement parking lot of the office building. She parked the car
and leaned her head on the steering wheel. Images of his face swam in her mind
– blue eyes, dark features, lost and alone. The pull was too compelling and
strangely tempting.

A
shake brought her out of the disturbing turn of thoughts. Work would get her
back on track. Quickly she locked the car and headed for the office. A dash out
of the elevator brought her head-on into Fred. “Got a minute?” she asked, never
more happy to see her friend than now.

Fred
smiled as he ushered her into her office. “I thought I’d missed you.”

Scooting
aside another pile of journals that had built up since she’d moved the last
stack, she motioned for Fred to be seated. Too keyed up to sit down herself,
she tossed aside her hat and began to pace in front of the window.

“I
think I’m on to Zane’s problem.”

“And
I’m going to hear all about it,” Fred teased.

“I’m
positive it stems from his tour of duty in Vietnam.”

“Rather
extreme for him to isolate himself that much, isn’t it?” Fred hefted his feet
on top of another stack of papers covering the table.

“There
were problems within the family. He couldn’t please his father. He was close to
his mother, who turns out to be involved in the antiwar movement. And somebody
named Al keeps turning up in the picture. He didn’t come home with the best situation
to deal with whatever happened overseas.”

“Could
be.” Fred rubbed his jaw, a sign that he was deep in thought. “If there were
problems before he left, his problems in Nam would magnify on his return.”

Margo
stepped to the window. The sunlight reflecting from windows matched the glitter
in her eyes. “That’s why I want you to take over this case.”

Fred
eyed her closely and Margo schooled herself to appear composed. She’d never
turned over a case before. Fred was going to be curious.

“He’d
be better off at the V.A. where he could work with other vets,” she said.

“I
can’t go up there. I don’t have the time.”

The
disappointment came and went. “I’ll bring him in.”

She’d
returned. Zane watched her stretch long legs out of the Bronco. Why was he relieved?
He should be annoyed. He schooled his expression to hide whatever was there.

“Any
trouble on the road?” he asked as she approached.

Before
answering, she straightened her Kelly green beret. “Made it fine. My wheels
only spun once.”

“It’ll
be your last trip.” He put the gruffness in his voice so she wouldn’t know how
glad he was to see her.

She
stopped in the middle of rearranging her blouse of black and green zigzags and
stared. The serious intent in her eyes seemed to cut right through his determination.
“You sound sure.”

“One
hundred percent.”

“You
thought it all through?”

He
hadn’t done anything but think – all last week in the long hours of the night.
He’d spent most of his time in the small outlying shed chipping away on the
statue. He’d even considered the possibilities of therapy. But later, after
waking up in a cold sweat from the age-old nightmare, he’d changed his mind.
Whether it was from her probing questions or his argument with Vinnie, the past
had reemerged from the dredges he thought he’d buried it in.

“You
just going to stay up here in hiding?”

“I
belong here.”

“What
about your family and friends?”

He
had no friends. There were superficial relationships and one-night stands with
women. That was all the involvement he wanted. As to family… They’d complained
enough about his fits of temper. Even he had noticed that the edginess that
plagued him lately was rubbing off on them. They were better off without him.

“You
go back to yours. I don’t need this.” He tried anger to punctuate the words.
Why didn’t she just turn around and leave? Why did she have to stand there? So
open, so confident, so alive and warm. He couldn’t be changing his mind. He
refused to want her to stay.

“It
was tough driving. You won’t mind if I rest a bit before leaving?” she stated
more than asked as she continued to approach.

He
eyed the long legs. Her hair brushed her neck as she ascended the steps. He
didn’t know he was waiting for her scent to reach him until it did and he
hungrily breathed it in.

“I’ll
leave if you insist. First, though, I want to give you these.” She lifted a
canvas tote that was as colorful as her outfit with big letters spelling San
Francisco. “It’s some literature I thought you might like to read.”

He
studied her expression. When he saw her brown eyes and the caring, he knew he
was going to concede and invite her in.
What the blazes?
Was he that
lonely that all it took was a smile? His fists clenched, the only outward sign
of stress.

“There’s
coffee inside,” he grudgingly told her. Without waiting, he went through the
open sliding glass door and across the large room to the kitchen.

He
pushed a freshly filled mug across the counter toward the place she’d used
before. She didn’t say a word but slid onto the stool and savored the aromatic
brew. Zane didn’t speak nor did he sit beside her. He wanted to, but she
smelled too feminine; she looked too soft. He wanted to touch. Instead, he
leaned against the counter and stared.

Now
what?
No way was he going to answer her questions. She wouldn’t find any clues in his
expression either. He kept his inner feelings buried.

“I
had lunch with your mother yesterday. She was in your restaurant and recognized
my name when we booked reservations.”

His
cup almost slid through his fingers. He tightened his grip until he feared the
handle would shatter.

“We?”

“My
mother, Dr. Bettina Devaull. We’re partners.”

“Find
out all the family gossip? Ma’s always eager to air the skeletons in the
closets.”

“I’m
not going to pump your family for information about you, Zane. It works better
for you to tell me yourself.”

“You
telling me Ma didn’t talk?”

Her
glance slid from his, but not before he saw the flash of regret. He set down
his mug and sighed. “Don’t worry about it. I know how Ma is. So what did she
tell you?”

“A
little about your father.”

“She
tell you I’m not crazy about running Zanelli, Inc.?”

Margo
nodded. Her glance bore into his. He schooled himself to keep steady.

“She’s
right there. What else did she bring up?”

“She
told me about her involvement in the antiwar movement.”

He
shrugged that off. He agreed with his mother on that issue. Young American boys
shouldn’t be sent to war.

“She
kept talking about Al. Who is he?”

Don’t
react. Just stand here, immobile. There’s no way she could know.
Nevertheless,
sweat began to bead under the loose folds of his red sweatshirt. “A friend.
Lived next door. We grew up together.”

“Sounds
like you were close.”

Zane’s
stomach tightened. “His folks were involved in civic projects. They were rarely
home. Al hung around our house.”

“Lucky
for him. Your family seems very caring. Anyway, I’d like to talk about what
happened last weekend.”

The
tension knotting his stomach eased slightly. He wasn’t going to talk to her
about Al.

She
blew on her coffee before taking another sip. “Your outburst is a normal
reaction. Posttraumatic stress disorder. It happens in some form or other to
all the vets who’ve been in heavy combat.”

Was
that supposed to make him feel better? To know there were other poor jerks who
freaked out like he did? The idea sickened him.

“Anyway,
I have some more articles about both conditions. It’ll help you to understand
your reactions. What I don’t understand is why it was triggered by my singing.
If a Huey had flown overhead or if we’d heard gunfire…”

Her
voice faded as memories crowded into his mind.

“What’re
we going to do for pledge night?” Al munched another bite of pizza and glanced
at Zane, who was shoving his books off his bed so he could stretch out.

“We
could do a skit. How about a put-down of Peterson? I’m ready to ram my fist
down that guy’s throat.”

Al’s
eyes widened. “Shut up, man. These dorm walls are paper thin. If he hears us
you know what’ll hit the fan.”

Zane
rolled onto his back. Peterson had come down hard on them. Zane suspected the
jerk was jealous of the close bonds the two freshmen had.

Was
it really worth the hassle to join a fraternity? He didn’t care one way or the
other, but it pleased his father. Tomas Zanelli had belonged to this
fraternity. His son should also.

He
moved his arm and glanced at Al. Was he gung ho about joining because he really
dug it or were his reasons the same? Al worked hard at being another son in the
Zanelli family. He succeeded at it too. Tomas had made Zane painfully aware of
the fact that he wished Zane were more like Al.

“I’ve
got it.” Al tossed the half-eaten piece of pizza back in the box. “You’re a
good singer. I could mime the action of a song.”

Zane
sat up, liking the idea. “What about the Beatles?”

“Or
the Rolling Stones?”

Zane
jumped up. “No. I’ve got it. ‘Forever Friends.’”

***

Margo
watched Zane closely. She couldn’t see any play of emotion except a stoic
determination not to let any feelings show. But they were there. His face was
too stiff, too blank. The silence had stretched too long.

At
least she’d made it past the first hurdle and had been invited in. For a brief
moment, she thought she was going to have to really defend her position. True,
he had only conceded to her staying for a bit, but the fact that he’d conceded
so easily told her a lot. Zane wanted help. Now all she had to do was figure
the best way to provide it.

Halfway
through her coffee, she stood and came around into the kitchen. He’d had enough
time to consider his dilemma. Now it was time to get to work. She’d ignore his
refusal of her help. She’d also have to ignore his size, his strength, and his
power. She knew he exuded it to intimidate her. What he didn’t know was she had
a power of her own.

“Let
me go over the plan of action. It might make it easier for you.”

His
mug landed on the counter with a thud. “What’s it take to get the message
across to you?”

Margo
set her mug beside his. “Vinnie…”

“Vinnie
isn’t here now.”

“Which
will make it easier for us. What you say to me will be strictly confidential.
Vinnie or anyone else for that matter will not be told anything you tell me.
Nor will I discuss any professional conclusions.”

The
tension in his shoulders eased slightly. She’d thought that might have been
part of the problem.

“Won’t
you have to report to little brother? He’ll want results for the money he’s
dishing out.”

It
was her turn to stiffen. She wasn’t used to her integrity being questioned, but
her voice managed to stay calm. “My reports to your brother will include a log
of time spent together and travel expenses. It will be up to you to tell him whether
we’re making progress or not moving forward at all.”

That
put the ball back in his court. She rocked back on her heels, waiting to see
what he’d do with it.

Nothing.

She
clasped her hands into fists, fighting the urge to demand that he respond. The
muscles in his hands flexed also and she realized his struggle to remain
implacable was as difficult as hers.