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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