Still Waters

'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,