“This isn’t going to be easy, is it?” she said.
“Loving you would be very easy.” He traced his finger along her jaw. “Keeping this distance is what is hard.”
“And the fact that you’re trying makes me realize how much you care.”
“Don’t ever doubt that, Margo Devaull. I care a lot. Too much, in fact.”
“Never too much.” She reached for his hand. “Caring is something the world needs more of.”
“You’re right.” He fell in step beside her as they continued along the beach. “Why does it sound so simple, yet turn out to be so hard to carry out?”
“People seem to enjoy making life more difficult for themselves, I guess.”
He laughed. “I hope you remember that statement next time you try to talk me into leaving my peaceful retreat to go back to the city.”
Margo grew serious. “There’s a difference between simplifying your life and hiding from it.”
“You don’t mince words, do you?”
The conversation threatened to become clinical and Margo had promised she’d not do that with Zane. He had a therapist in Eureka; what he needed now was a friend.
“What’s going on up ahead?” She pointed to a group of around twenty people, glad for the distraction. A fire was burning and several of the people milled around it. Others were sitting on the sand, apparently engrossed in some sort of a project.
Margo had no idea how Zane was reacting to her change of subject, but he didn’t object when she moved toward the activity.
When they reached the edge of the group, one of the members greeted them; that was all the invitation Margo needed.
“You look busy,” she commented. “What’re you making?”
The woman helped her teenage son dig a hole in the ground. They lined it with pieces of driftwood and shells.
“Sand candles,” she explained. “Sonoma State University offers a weekend beach arts class. You wouldn’t believe the ideas this instructor comes up with.”
“Mind if we watch?” Zane asked.
The woman invited them to help and showed them how to shape the hole in the wet sand. “You end up with whatever you make, so you have to mold it the way you want it to look. Be sure and make a flat bottom or the candle will teeter when it’s set.”
While Zane started on their mold, Margo watched the woman’s son go to the fire and bring back a charred coffee can that had been bent so it had a spout. Carefully he poured the melted wax into the hole his mother had formed.
“How’s yours coming along?” the woman asked Zane. “There’s enough wax in the can for another small one.”
“We don’t want to cut into your supply.” Zane smiled and the woman smiled back, making Margo aware that she wasn’t the only one who thought Zane was a fine-looking man.
“Me and Travis here have been saving candle ends for months. Just for this project. Don’t worry about the wax.”
Travis helped Zane secure a wick at the base and then they poured the hot wax.
“You have to be careful with this stuff around the fire. You don’t want it to get too hot or it’ll explode.”
Margo eyed the ten or so cans lining the fire and hoped they were all being watched. When Zane’s candle had been poured, Travis showed them a couple they’d made earlier that were already hard.
“When the wax sets, you lift the candle right out of the sand.”
The sand adhered to the wax as well as the shells and driftwood, making a unique candle. The second one had what appeared to be shiny stones. When Margo asked about them, Travis explained.
“They come from glass beach. It used to be the city dump. All the bottles and porcelain never deteriorated but broke into bits. The surf acted like a giant rock polisher and rounded all the pieces.”
“These are glass then?” Zane fingered the smooth objects in the basket Travis pointed to.
“Yeah. Glass beach is covered with this.”
“I bet they look like jewels when wet,” Margo commented.
Zane asked directions to the beach and Margo figured he’d no doubt go there. He’d probably come up with all sorts of ideas for the glass.
Travis explained some of the other projects the instructor had planned, and Zane and Margo listened with interest, enjoying the youth’s enthusiasm.
“Tomorrow we’re making giant sculptures on the beach using driftwood and whatever else we find.”
Margo knew about that art form. There were several locations in the Bay Area where industrious artists had created giant objects on the beach. Maybe tomorrow she and Zane would observe the project while it was in progress.
“Later today we’re making wall plaques from driftwood boards,” Travis continued explaining while he molded another hole. “We’ll also make plaster castings in the sand.”
Margo and Zane visited with the two until their candle was set enough to take it out of the sand. Thankfully they’d made a small candle that didn’t take long to harden. Although Margo was enjoying the friendliness of the group, she really wanted to be alone with Zane.
Because the candle was somewhat fragile, they decided to head back to their picnic spot and put it aside. On the way Zane collected pieces of driftwood, and Margo chuckled. She could see his mind was busy planning the use he’d put the collection to.
She couldn’t talk, though, because she spotted some treasures of her own: a sand dollar, shells, and a starfish that Zane assured her would stink unbearably if she decided to take it home.
When they reached the blanket, Zane decided he was hungry. The walk had whetted Margo’s appetite, so she pitched right in setting out the food while Zane lit the disposable barbecue.
It was a good thing she was hungry because she had to shake her head at Zane’s collection of food. “Don’t you know chips are loaded with cholesterol?” she scolded as she opened the bag.
Zane grabbed them from her and took out a chip, stuffing one in his mouth, then one in hers. She wasn’t crazy about them, but who could resist the look in his eye?
“Don’t bug me about my diet.” He gave her a mock stern look. “We’re talking beach-party picnic here. American tradition. Hot dogs, chips, pickles, and peanuts.”
“At least there’s fruit.” She treated the peaches with care.
They nibbled on the chips and peanuts until the coals were ready. Zane found a couple of sticks and insisted they roast the hot dogs on them rather than use the grate that came with the aluminum grill.
“We’ll pretend we have a real fire going here.”
“If you want a real fire, why don’t you make one?” Margo gestured to the driftwood covering the beach.
“The rangers prefer we don’t build fires,” he explained.
“The art class had one.”
“They probably had a special permit. Too many people build fires, then cover them with sand thinking they’re putting them out.”
“Sounds like a smart idea to me.”
“It would be if they buried them deep, but children come along barefoot, step on them, and burn their feet.”
“I see what you mean.” Margo tucked her feet under her and sat cross-legged.
In spite of teasing Zane about his choice of food, she had to admit the meal was delicious. They sat on the blanket with their backs against the log and ate their food. In front of them, they had a panoramic view of the beach and the ocean beyond.
The surf pounded and sea gulls flew overhead in the deep blue sky. She could even see a couple of brown heads as the sea lions bobbed in and out of the waves. Margo glanced at Zane and knew this was going to be a special day to remember.
“Want another hot dog?” Zane offered.
“I’m stuffed.” She patted her stomach and stretched her legs out in front of her.
It was cozy sitting next to the log, out of the wind with the sunshine warming their bodies. Margo pulled her pants up to her knees, hoping to tan while she watched Zane cook another hot dog.
It amazed
her how much pleasure she got from doing just that. Most of her outings with men involved elaborate entertainment, restaurants, and dressing up – nothing simple. Usually there was so much activity that there weren’t even moments to sit and talk.
Could this be what she’d been missing from her life? The longings she felt in the night, the restless yearnings? Were they for this peace and warm companionship that resulted from the pleasure of simply being in a special someone’s company?
Zane finished his hot dog and smiled at her. “Ready for dessert? The peaches are from the fruit stand on the edge of town.”
“They do look beautiful.” She handed one to Zane and got napkins for each of them.
True to his word, the peaches were delicious. Juice dripped down Margo’s chin and onto her fingers as she ate the ripe fruit.
When she finished, she saw the hungry longing in Zane’s eyes and knew what he was feeling. It claimed her as well.
“Kiss me, Zane.” She brushed her lips across his.
He captured her mouth and worked his magic. Margo sighed with pleasure as her breath mingled with his. This was what she wanted – needed – but kissing Zane made her want more.
Chapter 16
Zane pulled back even though he was reluctant to do so. This was a mistake. It had been torture not to see Margo, but being here with her like this and having to keep distant was too hard. He wanted her so badly that his body ached all over.
She didn’t look in much better shape. Her lids were half-closed, heavy with desire. Her face was flushed and her breathing irregular. He couldn’t take his eyes off her mouth. Her lips were moist from his kiss.
For a brief moment he toyed with the idea of breaking down and taking what he wanted. He didn’t doubt for a minute that he could. She was ready for him; her hunger matched his. But after they’d satisfied physical need, what would come next?
Zane straightened and leaned against the log. It wouldn’t be fair to involve her in his life any more than he already had. He didn’t want to offer love. Love was something he’d discovered brought too much pain. It was easier to be completely independent.
“Take the days as they come” were his therapist Ray Smith’s famous last words. He should enjoy this time with Margo and hope he’d have others. If he really wanted them, he’d have to play it straight.
“The sun is getting warm.” He was glad his voice sounded steady. “If we stay here on this blanket I’m going to fall asleep.”
He could feel her stare, but he didn’t dare look at her. Then her laughter rang out, giving him pleasure he’d long forgotten.
“I guess that’s one thing that could happen. But your kisses are more dangerous.”
His glance met hers. Merriment danced in her eyes and lightened his mood. She was here with him, and for today that was enough. He stood and held out his hand to pull her up beside him.
“Let’s walk the other direction and see what we can find.”
“Sounds good to me.”
For another hour they strolled along the beach. Margo found more shells. He was only interested in looking at her. Finally she stopped and pointed to a log.
“Let’s go sit down and rest. Remember, I’m a city girl. I’m not used to all this exercise.”
He helped her settle against the log and sat down beside her. “You should get out more. Even after one day you look relaxed.”
“You’re right. I know that. It’s so easy to get caught up in the rat race when you’re in the city. Rush and do this. Hurry and do that.”
“When you get out to the country it takes awhile to adjust.” He remembered those first days of his vacation. “You look around wondering what you should do and then you feel guilty when you don’t do much of anything.”
He could feel her gaze as she studied his features. “Do you still feel guilty?”
He chuckled. “No. It doesn’t take long to realize that hustle and bustle is ninety percent unnecessary.”
“Are you serious? You must’ve had plenty to do with a business the size of Zanelli, Inc.”
“Sure. Tons of red tape. Bureaucratic procedures. But what is it all for?”
“To keep the business going, I would imagine.”
He dug his heels into the sand, wondering if he could make her understand. “What is important about the business? Sure, it keeps an industry afloat, provides jobs, makes big bucks. But it was my father’s dream. Not mine. I’m discovering those things don’t have any meaning for me. I don’t need a life full of high stress, long hours, and back-breaking work.”
She positioned herself across from him and sat with her legs crossed. “You wouldn’t mind if it was work you enjoyed?”
“Exactly. My father ate that up. Vinnie gets off on it too.”
“I bet you spend long hours carving wood.”
Too many, he thought as he remembered the statue. When he carved the animals it was for the satisfaction of creating. But when he spent the long midnight hours working on the statue, there was no joy or sense of accomplishment, only pain – and he didn’t want to think about it today.
“You spend long hours working. Do you do it because you enjoy it?”
“Yes. I like working with people.”
And he’d bet she was good at it.
“But I’m discovering there’s more to it than helping others.”
He saw the contemplation and hoped she would confide in him, although he wouldn’t blame her if she kept to herself. When her glance locked with his he could see glimpses of inner struggle, and he had to resist the temptation to reach out to her.
“I’ve been going to therapy myself.”
That surprised him. Alert and concerned, he listened.
“Ever since that night at your place I’ve realized I haven’t dealt with my past. My father.” She took a deep breath. “I think a lot of my drive is guilt. I couldn’t help my father, so maybe I can make up for it by helping others.”
It was painful for her to discuss this; he could tell from the expression on her face. It took effort, but he resisted the need to pull her into his arms and offer comfort and strength.
“Is knowing that about yourself going to make a difference?” he asked. “Are you going to be able to slow down?”
Her laugh was wry. “It hasn’t yet, but I’m working on it.”
She started making piles in the sand in front of her. Zane watched her fingers sift in and out of the small grains. When she smoothed her palms across the top he couldn’t help wondering how her hands would feel on his body. Her hair hung forward, hiding her face. He started to smooth it back but dropped his hand in his lap. He’d better not touch, he thought. He wouldn’t want to stop.
“So what are your dreams? What is it you crave to do?” he asked, hoping his conversation would distract his thoughts.
She glanced up then. Her sudden enthusiasm captured his attention. “I want to build a retreat. Out in the country somewhere, where people can come and do like we’re doing today. Enjoy nature. Relax and take a break from their stressed world.”
She was a dreamer all right, he thought. As she went on to explain the property she was considering, he had to bite his tongue to keep from bursting her bubble. Didn’t she know what something like that would cost? The work and planning it would entail?
As if reading his mind, she glanced up from the sand. “I know it sounds like a pipe dream and believe me, I realize it will be years down the road before I can begin to afford it. But it’s a good dream and it keeps me going.”
Zane looked at the earnest set of her features and realized she was determined enough and had the self-confidence she needed to achieve her dream. He envied her for that. Perhaps if he had something to feel that strongly about, he’d be able to put the past aside.
“I don’t think your dream sounds impossible,” he told her. “When you get closer to it, you’ll begin to work out the details.”
Her eyes narrowed, but a smile formed. “Are you trying to tell me some of my
ideas aren’t workable?”
“They’re sound; they just need some revision. You’re a city woman and can’t be expected to know how it’s going to be in the country.”
“You can teach me if you’re such an expert on the subject,” she challenged.
The idea of teaching her anything pleased him. “That’s a promise,” he said, but wondered in all honesty how long she’d be in his life. The thought of her not being there depressed him enough so that he stood. “Let’s walk some more. These old bones are getting stiff.”
“You’re so ancient.” She accepted his hand and let him pull her up.
“Sometimes I feel it. But not today. You’re good for me, Margo Devaull.”
***
Margo heard the sincerity in his tone and saw it in his face. It pleased her to know she could make this man happy. Just being with him did wonders for her. She kept her hand in his as they walked along the beach. The afternoon sun hung low in the sky and the breeze was starting to cool.
They started back to their picnic spot when Margo spotted several long-legged birds running toward the surf and then scurrying back to shore when the next wave came in.
“What are they doing?”
“Those are sandpipers. See their longs beaks? When the water washes out they run out and poke their beaks in the sand looking for food. But they don’t want to get wet so they hurry back to shore before the water gets to them.”
They were fast and Margo laughed at the sight. The brown and tan markings on their feathers were attractive, but their long legs were comical.
“Come on.” Zane grabbed her hand. “Do like they do. It’s a game we used to play when we were kids.”
She followed him as he charged after the receding wave, but when she looked up to see the wall of water bearing down on them she screamed and ran back to the beach.
Zane laughed, a sound she didn’t think she’d ever tire of.
“Come on. Try it again.”
“Not on your life. That water’s freezing!”
In spite of her protest, she soon joined him and ran back out to sea. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been this carefree. After several daring ventures, she began to feel more confident. It didn’t take long before she was challenging Zane to see who would risk going the farthest. When Zane misjudged and ended up with wet cuffs, she couldn’t stop laughing.
Love's Miracles Page 24
