Still Waters

Eight

Maddy managed to croak "Zack," but that was all.

He just stood there with his hands in his pockets, scowling up at her. Jody looked from his face to Maddy's and seemed to conclude that, though her surprise wasn't producing quite the reaction she'd intended, this was infinitely more interesting. And then, because for all her blithe and sometimes thoughtless nature she really wasn't an insensitive person, she apparently decided to leave things to percolate naturally.

"Oh, look," she cried suddenly, "there are the Duncans. I'll leave it to Maddy to show you around, Zachary. Excuse me. Hilary, how wonderful you look! What a marvelous tan! Tell me all about Mazatlan…"

Her voice faded into background noise. Maddy cleared her throat. She couldn't think of anything to say, and Zack wasn't helping her out. Why was her throat so dry? Why did she have the feeling that if she let go of the banister, she'd sit down rather more abruptly than she would care to?

"Well," she said at last. "I didn't know you knew Jody."

"I didn't," he said shortly, "until this afternoon."

"Oh."

"I'm here because she told me you would be. I'm not very big on parties."

"Oh," Maddy said, and took a deep breath. She wished he'd stop looking at her like that. He hadn't even seemed to notice her dress. Like Jody's boys, he didn't seem to find anything at all unusual about the way she looked. To her surprise, Maddy began to feel vaguely miffed. Darn it, the one time she'd ever really wanted a man to think she looked nice, she might just as well have been wearing sweats!

She shrugged, and began, with dignity, to descend the stairs. The discovery that she'd left her shoes on the twins' bedroom floor made dignity a little more difficult to manage, but she held her head high and did the best she could. "Well," she said with a wave of her hand, "now you see why I couldn't come for my lesson tonight. I'd have explained, but-"

"Baloney."

"I beg your pardon?"

"I said, baloney. You left that message with Dahlia at nine o'clock this morning. Jody didn't even tell you about the party until this afternoon."

"How do you know?" Beyond miffed and well along toward anger, Maddy paused on the bottom step, where she would have a height advantage even without her three-inch heels.

Zack took care of that simply enough. He put his hands on her waist and lifted her down beside him. "Because when Jody called me, she told me she'd just finished talking to you."

Maddy opened her mouth, closed it again, and muttered, "Thanks a lot, Jody."

Zack's smile was grim. "Never pays to lie, Maddy."

She stared at him in helpless fury, then whirled and stalked out to the patio. It was much harder to stalk impressively when barefoot.

The party had gotten well underway while she'd been hiding upstairs with the children. The christening ceremony had obviously already taken place, because there were glasses of champagne on the buffet tables, and the caterers were circulating with open bottles. Maddy snatched a plastic glass from the table and downed its contents in one gulp.

"Better take it easy," Zack murmured sardonically. "I think that stuffs supposed to be sipped, not gulped."

"You drink champagne your way," Maddy said furiously, "and I'll drink it my way." She didn't feel like telling him she wasn't accustomed to drinking champagne any way. Pointedly turning her back to him, she managed to snag a caterer with a bottle, and avidly watched him fill her glass to the brim.

"For your information," she informed Zack as she took a prim sip from her glass, "I was thirsty." She turned to pick up a second glass from the buffet table and waved it recklessly at him. "Here, have some."

He muttered, "No, thanks," and went on watching her through half-closed, shadowy eyes.

She shrugged, and took a sip from that glass to hide her fury. Who did he think he was, tracking her down like this, cornering her at her best friend's party? Just because she'd broken a little old appointment! He was acting as if he owned her! As if she owed him something! He'd offered to teach her to swim- she hadn't asked him! If she changed her mind, that was her business, not his! She didn't need him butting into her personal, private affairs. She didn't need him at all, and if she didn't want to tell him her life's story, that was her business too!

Inexplicably, the pressure in her chest surged up into her throat and threatened to escape in the form of humiliating tears. She ducked her head and desperately gulped champagne.

"Maddy…" Zack took the empty glass from her hand and set it on the table. When he tried to relieve her of the other glass as well, she eluded him, and muttered, "That's mine."

"Come on, Maddy."

Hah, she thought. He was beginning to sound frustrated. Good. He deserved it. He shouldn't have come here. It wasn't going to do any good. She wasn't going to get in that pool of his again. She wasn't going to go back to his place again, either. Not alone. Because if she did…

"Come on, that's enough champagne." He finally captured the now-empty glass and disposed of it, then caught her wrists.

She stared down at his hands, then said imperiously, "Let go, please."

He shook his head. "Not until you stop this nonsense and tell me why you bolted."

She stared at him, and wondered why her eyes had developed a tendency to cross. Maybe she needed glasses. "Bolted? What's that mean?"

"Why you quit-gave up-chickened out!"

"I didn't chicken out. I just…" She looked longingly at the champagne, but Zack was still holding her wrists. "I just…" She took a deep breath and frowned. If she started to cry here, in front of all these people, she'd never forgive him. Ever.

"Maddy, come with me. Now. Let's go back to my place and get to the bottom-"

"Can't go swimming," she declared. "I just curled my hair."

"No swimming. Well just talk, okay? Just talk to me, Maddy. Tell me what's making you so afraid. Please."

She shook her head. She could be just as stubborn as he could. She wasn't even sure why she was being stubborn. She only knew that Zack London scared her more than the water did. He was demanding things of her that she wasn't sure she was ready to give. Making her feel things she wasn't ready to feel. If she went with him now, she'd have to confront those emotions, and she had a notion that once she did, her life would never be the same again.

Zack took a deep breath and muttered, "Okay, Maddy, that's it. I came here to get you, because we have some unfinished business. Now, are you going to come with me, or do I have to carry you out of here?"

"Hah!" she crowed triumphantly. "I'd like to see you try it. It's one of the advantages of being as big as me-as I… am."

"Yeah?" His smile had a dangerous twist. Maddy saw that look and thought, Uh-oh. She'd gone too far.

Zack let go of her wrists and put his hands on her waist, measuring it judiciously, and measuring with his eyes the parts of her his hands couldn't. Maddy felt those parts begin to tingle and ache. "Sorry to have to disillusion you," he drawled. "You're tall, not big. As a guess, I'd say you don't weigh more than… one thirty. I routinely press a whole lot more than that, sweetheart. And you're forgetting. I carried you once before."

"Oh, yeah?" Maddy said with champagne belligerence. "Kicking and screaming?"

He lifted his eyebrows. "Oh, would you kick and scream? It's okay with me if you do, but I wouldn't have thought you'd relish being the center of so much attention."

She considered that. She was beginning to feel a little funny and light-headed. Maybe it wouldn't be altogether bad to be carried. She had sun-shot visions of Snow White in the arms of Prince Charming…

"Which will it be?" Zack asked stonily. "You can come with me on foot or over my shoulder."

She gazed at him in horror. "Are those the only two choices?"

He nodded. His jaw looked implacable.

She gulped, got a good grip on her pride, and said, "I believe I'll walk, thank you."

Zack's car was a Mercedes-one of the little two-seaters. Maddy wondered foggily how he could afford such a car, selling sporting goods. Then she remembered his house and Dahlia and the golf course, and muttered, "How come you told me you sell sporting goods?"

He snorted. "Because I do," he said, and opened the door to the passenger side. He waited while she got in, then slammed the door and went around to the other side. As he was getting in, she muttered something very witty about being kidnapped by Aquaman. He slammed his door and sat there looking at her without starting the motor.

"Maddy," he said finally, and dragged his hand through his hair. "Why are you being so childish about this?"

"I'm not childish!"

"All I want to do is help you accomplish what you set out to do in the first place, that day you showed up in my swimming class. Remember? But I can't help you if I can't get you to open up to me." His laugh was sharp and full of irony and frustration. "You know, it's really funny. You're acting just like those frightened kids you work with every day. Except you get through to them with your puppets, and I don't have anything to use to get through to you!"

"I'm not," she said in a tight, tense voice she didn't recognize. She suddenly felt cold and sick.

Zack had been staring out through the windshield. Now he slowly turned his head to look at her.

"I'm not like them. I'm not a child. And I've never been… been…"

"That's it, isn't it?" His voice was very soft. "I asked you if you'd been mistreated, and you denied it. But you're scared to death to talk about something that happened to you, something that happened when you were a child. I'd stake my life on it."

Maddy sat frozen, staring down at her clenched fists.

"You can't face it. You can't admit the fact that you were an abused-"

"I wasn't! I wasn't. My parents were just strict, that's all. I was their only child. They were very religious-they wouldn't do that. They wouldn't. They never harmed me. Never meant to harm me!"

"Maddy." Zack's hands, like his voice, were firm. He was holding her the way he'd held her that day in the pool. "Maddy, there's all kinds of abuse-you should know that better than anybody. There are all sorts of ways to harm a child. Some of the worst ways don't even show. Please… please tell me."

All of a sudden it seemed easier to tell him than to keep it all inside her. "He never meant to hurt me," she whispered. "He didn't-I know he didn't."

"I know," Zack murmured. "Tell me about it, Maddy."

"He only wanted me to learn how to swim. It was the way he'd learned. He took me to the pond… and he told me that all God's creatures were born knowing how to swim. It was natural. If I'd just let Him, God would take care of me. So he made me… he made me jump in the water. I tried, Zack. I tried to think about God. But there were things in the water. Moss, and slippery things that touched my legs. I guess I panicked, because I got water in my nose, and in my mouth, and then I couldn't keep… my head above the water. I couldn't breathe, and I couldn't see, and there was moss all over my face, and in my eyes, and…and-"

"It's all right, Maddy. It's okay." Zack's voice sounded ragged. "What finally happened?"

"I don't remember," she said dully. "Does it matter?"

"No," he breathed, and started the motor.

In those awful moments, listening to her talk, Zack had seen the child Maddy must have been: flaxen braids and soft gray eyes, and the endearing, long-legged awkwardness of a newborn colt. An exquisite and precious child.

Rage engulfed him-the same cold, overwhelming tide that had left him feeling so helpless and frustrated when he'd seen those bruises on Theresa's face. Dammit, every child was a rare and beautiful miracle. They were all supposed to be nourished and kept from harm, encouraged to grow and blossom…

An old grief replaced the rage, taking him by surprise. It swept through him and then receded, leaving him feeling calm, but more vulnerable than he'd been in a long time.

He pulled into his own driveway, switched off the motor, and turned to look at Maddy. In the dim light he could see her throat move, but she didn't say anything. She hadn't said a word since he'd started the car.

He got out and shut his door, then went around to open hers. "Maddy? Come on, we're here."

She didn't move. In a thin, careful whisper she said, "I don't feel very well."

Zack swore softly. The streets of San Ramon Estates were winding, and he had been driving pretty much on automatic pilot. He wasn't used to having a passenger to worry about. Belatedly contrite, he took her arm and helped her out of the car.

"Take deep breaths," he instructed her tersely. "And walk. Dammit, why didn't you tell me you were carsick? And you had all that champagne. Did you eat anything?"

She looked appalled at the very thought.

Muttering profanely under his breath, Zack slipped his arm around her waist and walked her to the front door. She leaned against the door while he tried it, then unlocked it. When he pushed it open he had to grab her to keep her from falling through. At least the locked door meant that Dahlia had already left, thank heaven. She usually spent Saturday nights at her sister's, so they could go to church together early in the morning.

"All right, Maddy, in you go. Do you want to lie down?" She shook her head. He frowned at her, feeling helpless. "You need something in your stomach besides champagne. You go lie down while I fix you something to eat. Some of that lasagne, maybe-"

Maddy's eyes got round and dark. Suddenly she clapped a hand over her mouth and bolted for the bathroom.

Zack uttered a short, ugly word and raked a hand through his hair. He was furious with himself, and with his own impatience. He hadn't meant to do this to her. He'd only meant-had really wanted-to help her. Where along the way had his desires become more important than her problems? His need to know more important than her feelings?

He was a rat, and he wouldn't blame her if she never spoke to him again.

With a sigh of pure frustration, he threw up his hands and stalked into the kitchen.

She came in while he was making toast. She looked pale and chastened, and a few wisps of hair had escaped the combs and were clinging damply to her face.

"Did you throw up?" he asked bluntly.

She nodded.

"You're better off without that champagne in your system."

She nodded again and cleared her throat. "I didn't have that much. Three glasses. I don't know-it must be nerves."

"Three glasses in about three minutes." Zack added two more slices of toast to the pile on the plate in front of him and put another batch in the toaster. "You probably aren't used to that much alcohol hitting you all at once-especially on an empty stomach."

"Actually," she said, sounding embarrassed, "I'm not really used to drinking at all. I don't know what got into me."

"Well," he muttered, scowling at the toaster. He knew very well what had got into her. "What you need is something to eat. I made you some tea and… uh…"

"Toast," Maddy supplied as the latest batch popped up.

"Yeah."

"Well, thanks."

"Don't mention it."

"Um… where's Dahlia?"

"At her sister's. She always spends Saturday night at her sister's."

"Oh… Zack? Don't you think that's enough toast?"

He stared down at the leaning tower of toast, then up at Maddy. Her cheeks were very pink, her eyes suspiciously bright. As he glared at her, her mouth began to quiver. She put a hand over it, but a snort of laughter bubbled up anyway. Something inside him that had been wound too tight slowly came unraveled, and he began to laugh silently, his body shaking with it. He carefully laid the butter knife down on the counter and turned around.

"Maddy," he said softly. "Come here."

He was a little surprised that she came so readily, and surprised, too, at the way she fit so well against him. It wasn't the first time he'd held her in his arms, of course, but then he hadn't really been noticing things like that. He'd been too wrapped up in his own desires.

Now, as he pulled her close, he felt the shape of her against his own body; the shape of her, not of breasts and belly and thighs. She trembled a little as her arms encircled him, and he felt the steady thumping of her heart against his chest. He held her very tightly for a few moments until the tension in her eased. They both shifted, adjusting the fit, settling closer to each other. Zack leaned back comfortably against the counter, pulling her with him, then touched his lips to her hair and whispered, "I'm sorry."

"It's okay. You were right-I was childish." She stirred restlessly, and he tightened his arms around her for a second or two.

"No, you're not childish. I shouldn't have said that."

"Well… whatever you call it. You were right, I couldn't face it. I didn't know, Zack." Her words came rapidly, as if she had to get it all said while she still had the nerve. "I didn't know until I started working at the Crisis Center. And then I didn't want to believe it-accept it. I couldn't." The anguish in her voice was raw and real. "They're my parents, Zack, the only family I have. They love me. I don't want to hate them. They really didn't know what they were doing to me. I didn't know, until I came to the clinic. I just thought it was me. That I'd been a bad kid…"

Zack just held her and let her talk, stroking her back in an idle, petting way, while her words put haunting pictures in his mind. Amanda… beautiful, fairy-princess child; older parents, stern, righteous, no-nonsense, and God-fearing. To them she must have seemed like a foundling child-the devil's foundling.

The miracle was, he supposed, that they'd done so little permanent damage. But then, he was discovering that kids could be remarkably resilient. Oh, yeah, Maddy was afraid of water, and even afraid of her own beauty. And she'd had to find a way to hide her natural sparkle from everybody-behind those puppets of hers. But fears could be overcome, with patience. Her beauty and sparkle were still there- that was the miracle. All she needed was for someone to make her believe it was okay, even wonderful, to be Amanda Gordon.

Zack knew quite suddenly that he wanted to be that person.

"…I thought it was bad, somehow, being pretty," Maddy was saying.

He leaned back so she could see his smile. "You don't still think so, do you?"

"No…" She touched her forehead to his chin, and he felt it crease as she struggled to understand and explain. "Not in my head. But in my heart-well, it's just… I don't like to be told I am, for instance. It never makes me feel good to be complimented on my looks, and I think it's supposed to. Sometimes I wish…"

"Wish what? That you looked different? Everybody probably wishes that at one time or another. But let me tell you what I believe, okay? Free of charge." This time he took her chin in his hand and tipped her face up, so he could look into her eyes. "You get what you get, period, and that's a gift. Rejecting it is like rejecting your gift."

She laughed. "Bad manners."

"Yeah, exactly. So the best you can do is accept your gift with style and grace and go on from there. You can make the most you can out of what you get, or you can just let it all go to pot." He grinned wryly. "Unfortunately, sooner or later, most people do let it go to pot-literally."

She pulled away from him and put her hand on his flat stomach. "You haven't," she observed, smiling.

It was an ingenuous move. He didn't think she had any idea what it would do to him. Getting a tight rein on his self-control, he put his hand over hers and kept it right there against his belly, a warm and intimate prisoner.

"No," he said, taking hold of her eyes as firmly as he had her hand, "I take good care of my gift. And so, obviously, in spite of everything, do you- No, Maddy. For Pete's sake, don't flinch!"

"Sorry," she mumbled. "It's a reflex."

He put his free hand on her neck, cradling her head, and gave her a little shake. "Don't reject your gift!" And then to his astonishment, he heard himself add, through tense jaws, "… like Carol did."

"Carol?" She was watching him intently now, a frown creasing the space between her eyebrows. "You mean your wife?"

He nodded. "Yeah. She was beautiful too. Worked as a model before we were married. She took good care of herself, until after we lost Josh. Then she quit caring. I couldn't make her care-nothing could. She tried everything she could to ruin what she had-ate, drank, you name it. And she finally succeeded, in spades. Ran her car into a telephone pole about a mile from here." Maddy's cheek felt cold in his palm. Her eyes were wide with horror, but Zack felt merely sad. It was all long past. There was no more horror left for him. Just a vast sadness, and a deep, lonely sense of regret.

Maddy licked her lips and asked, "Josh… was your son?"

"Yeah." He looked down at the soft place where her throat began and saw it move as she swallowed. He stared at that spot as if it were the most fascinating thing he'd ever seen.

"Please… tell me how it happened."

It didn't occur to him until later that she was asking him a question she'd never asked a living soul before without a puppet on her arm to buffer her from the pain in the answer. Her hands were at his waist, touching him, holding him. Her gaze was clinging to his. She was opening herself to him, and taking his pain into herself…

"Maddy," he said. His throat felt raw. "It was just one of those things that happen. We were both there, and there wasn't anything either of us could do. He was riding his tricycle-Josh knew he wasn't supposed to ride his tricycle on the deck. But he… uh… rode his tricycle right into the pool. We didn't see it, so we can only suppose he was going too fast around and around, and couldn't make the corner. Anyway, he must have hit his head going in, and then was tangled up in the tricycle. Carol heard the splash-I pulled him out. We resuscitated him, but his lungs were full of water, and he was brain-injured besides. He died three days later."

Maddy was finally able to tear her gaze from him. It was drawn, against her will, toward the pool.

"We were living in Beverly Hills then," he said, and saw relief in her eyes as she looked back at him. "I bought this house because of Carol… hoping she'd start to take an interest in golf again-in something. You see, she never got over the guilt. We both blamed ourselves-people do, at times like that. We both saw counselors, together and separately…" He shrugged. "With me it helped; with her it didn't."

Maddy whispered, "Zack," and put her arms around him. He took a huge breath and folded her into his arms, and again they just stood still for a time, holding each other. After a bit Zack chuckled, and blew a tickling wisp of her hair away from his nose.

"I guess this is what's called 'catharsis,' " he said.

She sniffed. "It's called 'getting rid of all the bad stuff at once.' "

"Right."

"Zack, I don't think I'll ever drink champagne again."

"Why? You're not sorry this happened, are you?" He tipped her face up again so he could see it.

"No."

"Me either. In fact, I'm damn glad."

"Me too." He looked at her for a moment longer; then he kissed her. Just a little kiss, a kiss of comfort and friendship.

At least… it started that way.

Her mouth was petal-soft, and tasted, rather surprisingly, of toothpaste. He felt her sigh as her arms lifted and wound around his neck.

It hit him then like a blast from a twelve-gauge shotgun, both barrels. One minute he was holding Amanda, person and friend. The next minute his arms were full of Maddy, the woman whose beauty had stirred him from the very first, and rekindled fires he'd thought dead. He felt the fullness of her breasts like brands against his chest, felt the sweet inward curve that brought her belly flat against his, felt the sliding pressure of her thighs aligning with his. There was a vast ache in his loins; a shudder ran through him; self-control fled. He groaned and dropped his arms low, pulling her hard into his body. His mouth found that soft place on her throat. Her body was all warmth and yielding softness. He heard her whisper something-his name?-as she threaded her fingers through his hair.

It was what he'd wanted, what he'd planned for. Maddy pliant and vulnerable in his arms, Maddy responding to his passion with nothing standing between them-not a little girl, not her puppets.

And he couldn't believe how stupid he'd been. Stupid to think he could ever have been satisfied with sex and nothing else. Stupid to think he'd be content to possess her body without knowing and treasuring all she was.

And he'd not only been incredibly stupid, he'd been arrogant. He'd been so certain he'd know, right away, like a light bulb coming on in his head, the way he'd known about wanting Theresa. Why hadn't he realized that loving a woman would be a whole lot more complicated than loving a child? More complicated… and too easy to confuse and mistake for other things…

Well, he'd wanted Maddy just where he had her right now. In fact, though it shamed him to admit it, he'd maneuvered her here with the same concentrated determination he'd always put into achieving anything he'd ever wanted. And now that he'd won, he knew he couldn't do it to her. He wanted more from her than a yielding body-a lot more.

The effort it took to control his desires left him vibrating like a plucked string. His jaws felt as if they'd been wired shut. He managed to grate out, "Maddy," and pulled her arms from around his neck.

"Maddy," he said, praying she would understand, "I think I'd better take you home now."

She wasn't going to understand. He could see it in her eyes. They were glazed and dark with shock. He held her hands together in both of his and said gently, "Believe me, I don't want to. But… you're very vulnerable right now. We both are. You're a warm, compassionate woman, and I've just unloaded on you. We're holding on to each other for comfort. Maddy, I can't let you get caught up in the moment and do something you'll regret later."

She opened her mouth, then closed it. He saw her throat move. She wouldn't argue with him-she didn't have enough self-confidence for that-but he knew she felt rejected. He hated doing this to her, but the alternative was unthinkable. In a little while, when she'd had a chance to recover her sanity, she'd thank him.

"Come on, I'll take you home," he said, still struggling with his rigid jaws. He glanced down at her feet. "Get your shoes."

She shook her head. "Don't have any. I left them at Jody's. Just take me back there, please. I have to get my car."

"Oh," he said. "Of course."

He drove her back to the Harbors' in silence. The party was still in full swing. He sat in his car and waited while she walked barefooted up the walk. He knew he should have gone with her, but he didn't think he could have faced her at the door, said night to her, without pulling her into his arms. He didn't think he had it in him to let her go twice in one night.

When she had disappeared through the Harbors' front door, he put his car in gear and drove slowly and carefully home. He let himself into his empty house and made straight for the basement. As he crossed the room he was pulling his shirt off over his head, kicking off his shoes, yanking at his belt buckle. By the time he reached the pool he was naked. Without missing a stride he launched himself through the air in a shallow racing dive. His body cut like a knife through the cool, silky blackness.

He thought it probable that anyone watching him enter the water must have heard the hiss of steam…

He swam underwater until his chest began to feel like a bass drum, then surfaced and ploughed up and down the length of the pool until he was thoroughly winded. As he was dragging himself out of the water he thought he heard the chime of his front doorbell.

He froze, listening, while they pool water undulated, glittering with reflected moonlight. It came again, distant but unmistakable.

Damn, he thought. Who the hell could that be?

Muttering oaths under his breath, he found a towel and knotted it carelessly around his hips. Leaving a trail of wet footprints and water droplets, he ran up the stairs and strode to the door. Flung it open. And stood frozen with disbelief.

Maddy stood there, holding her shoes in one hand.