THE CAVERN OF DEEP HARMONY

PART FORTY-THREE:

He rose up gradually through the different layers of sleep, letting his consciousness hover comfortably just slightly below full waking. Where was he? He couldn't remember for a moment, but he seemed to be lying in some bower of scent. His mind, wanting to know, woke,

but still he lay unmoving, exploring the wonders that reached him. Evergreen was very strong, rather dominating the other scents. There had to be cinnamon sticks not far away, used in a decoration of some sort. He was at the inn, thank God, he was at the inn.

Still not moving, he sorted out all the other delicacies that filled the air about him. Martha was baking...many things. There was fresh, hot bread, almost the best smell in the world. She was making something else with raisins and brown sugar. He'd smelled that when she'd opened the door earlier and it was still strong in the house. Tomatoes? She was making some kind of sauce. Garlic, onions, cheese, celery, oregano, basil.  How glad he was to be away from the medicinal, antiseptic hospital smells he'd experienced for the last week.

What else? A bowl of fruit must be on the coffee table. Oranges, apples, pears, and grapes. He could smell them all. Still he sorted through the scents...slightly wet dog, logs stacked by the fireplace, the ones burning, releasing their wonderful woodsy scent. After the forest, he was almost surprised how much he still enjoyed that particular scent. Ah, there it was. The best

scent of all, delicate, somewhat elusive to locate among all the louder ones. She was in the
room with her roses. His lips curved into a quiet smile.

Eden had been in a rocking chair nearby, reading, had looked up just as he smiled. Closing her book, she came and sat on the coffee table, not aware of how, for him, she was bringing the roses of herself closer. "You're awake."

"Ummm hmmm," he said drowsily, inhaling a deep breath. "And I need terribly to be kissed."

"I think I can manage that."  She leaned close, gently laying her lips on his.

"I like that," he sighed. "I like that a lot."  Then his tummy rumbled.

Eden laughed. "Martha's been holding lunch. I can bring you a tray."

"I'm tired of trays," he said. "I'd really like to try for the table."  He moved his legs to the side, pushing with his arms to sit up, trying not to let it show that it hurt. Finally, upright, he blew

out another breath. "There's just so much of this invalid stuff a fellow can take."

"Just wait there a sec while I go let Martha know you're awake."  She walked quickly to the kitchen. "Marshall's up now...and hungry."

"Shall I fix a tray for him?"

"He says he wants to eat at the table."  She shrugged. "Can't blame him. He's had every meal

in bed for a week."

Martha went around the corner to where Harold sat at his desk. "Will you walk with Marshall to the table, dear? I just don't quite trust him all on his own."  Not after that near-collapse of

his on the steps.

When Eden and Harold got back to the parlor, Marshall was standing, his left hand holding onto the back of the couch. "Smells really good," he said at the sound of their steps. "I've

missed Martha's cooking."

Eden slid her right arm through his left. "No protests, mister. I'm escorting you into dine."

Harold followed close behind, and though Marshall walked slowly and rather awkwardly, he managed the route to the dining room table rather well. Martha served spaghetti with the homemade bread. It all tasted so good to him he ate a lot more than he usually  would have, as Martha watched, grinning widely in pleasure. There was, for her, nothing quite so good as feeding a hungry man. And, sizing Marshall up, she could tell he'd lost weight. Well, Christmas was an excellent time to put a little meat back on his bones. She'd see to that!

"You want me to help you up the stairs?" Harold asked at the end of the meal.

"If it's ok, I'd like to spend some more time downstairs. I've been shut away so long I feel kin to the man in the iron mask."

Eden holding his arm again, the two of them went back to the parlor, Harold watching carefully from a bit further away this time. "Looks like he's getting his sea legs back, Martha."

Eden guided him toward the couch, but he indicated he'd rather sit at the piano for a while.

The splint on his right ring finger made it a bit difficult, but he managed to play 'It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas' with only a few misses. When he finished, he let his fingertips run soundlessly back and forth over the keys for a moment, enjoying the familiar feel, the fact that he could use his left arm again. "My mother taught me," he said quietly,memories flooding through him. "She had a really good soprano. Used to sing in the church choir. In the evening sometimes she'd play and my Dad would come in. They'd sing together." His hands ran over the keys again. "It's one of my best memories. Kind of old-fashioned, I guess, more like folks used

to do before there was TV. I think they tried really hard to find things I could be a part of, you know, other than everybody sitting around staring at a box I couldn't see."  He played the beginning of 'Danny Boy.'  "They were like that."

She came up behind him, resting her hands lightly on his shoulders. "You miss them."  It was

a statement, not a question.

He nodded, his fingers moving into 'Aura Lee.'  "Mmm hmm. It's been...different...since they've been gone. Especially Christmas."

Martha, attracted by his playing, stood in the doorway, a small kitchen pot still in her hand.

"What did you do last Christmas?" Eden asked.

"Met a couple of colleagues of mine at a pub Christmas Eve. Then Wadsworth and I walked a lot. Mount Lebanon, as you know, is one of the few suburbs that has sidewalks. Guess we did several miles of them that night. I know all the streets there really well, then, of course, Wadsworth knows them even better. Started to snow about eleven. Sat on a bench in a small park and just sort of let it snow on me. Was really quiet. In the morning I gave Wadsworth his presents. He's generally a cheap date."  He grinned.

Eden, aware of Martha, turned and looked at her as Marshall talked. Martha just shook her head silently.

"What about you, darling?"

"Presents? Oh, there'd been a little party at the University. My secretary had a mug and some special coffees for me." His hand came up, resting atop hers on his left shoulder. "It's ok. I

don't require much."

She kissed his hair.  "I love you," she whispered.

"That's my present this year," he smiled. "I get loved by you."

"You do," she said, wanting to crush him in her arms, but holding back because of knowing it would hurt him. So she kissed his neck and around up, kissing his ear, then his temple, leaving her lips there. She loved him so much that, in that moment, she wasn't sure her being could contain it and thought she might well split open right there on the spot like some milkweed pod and all the soft whiteness of her love would spill out, floating around him, enveloping him.

Martha turned and left then, brushing at her cheeks with the back of her free hand. Sat alone and let it snow on him? On Christmas Eve? Not this year!

He played a few more Christmas songs, leaning back against her body as she stood behind him, liking the physical connection with her. When he stopped, he put his hand on hers again where

it still lay on his shoulder. "Shall we try the stairs, you think?" he asked.

"You don't have to. Martha said you could just stay on the couch tonight."

"Nope. Don't want to be away from you another night. Had enough of that."

"All right, then, but let me get Harold. I'd like him behind you."

"I'll be fine."

"Seems like you said that on the way to the back door, if I remember right."

So Harold came and the three of them went slowly up the steps to the second floor. He paused once, catching his breath half way up, but made it to the top, where he gripped the railing post and breathed some more. "Long way," he said, trying to make light of how much the climb drained him.

"Very long," she agreed, waiting for him to recover enough to continue down the hall to their room. Wadsworth was already at the door, wagging his tail, patient for someone to let him inside. He was happy again. Things were as they should be.

Harold followed along to the door, then went back downstairs. Martha had stood at the bottom of the staircase, intently watching Marshall's progress.  Again she thought of the last time he'd come down it, the two convicts waiting silently for him.  But he was back now. Safe and back.

He went directly to the big four-poster bed, sitting on the edge of it. "Will you lie beside me a while?"

"Is that...all right?"

"It's more than all right, my darling. I need it desperately."

He lay slowly back, not able fully to suppress a brief wince again. Eden slipped off his shoes, then hers, and crawled up beside him, not at all sure how to go about lying next to him without hurting him. But he lifted his left arm, and she tucked herself carefully along his side. His eyes were closed and his breathing was a bit labored, but he had a small, contented smile on his face as his arm curved around her. He let out a long sigh. "Home," he whispered. It was the inn, not his own house, but she was there beside him and nothing more was required than that to make

it home.

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