THE CAVERN OF DEEP HARMONY

PART EIGHTY-FIVE:

The following morning a bit of January thaw seemed to be taking hold and a great deal of the

ice had melted. Sylvie arrived, eager to see Marshall again and meet his bride. She entered

through the side door into the laundry room, bustling happily into the kitchen where Marshall

and Eden sat at the breakfast table, just finishing eggs scrambled with cheese and sun-dried

tomatoes.

"Marshall!" she sighed, content at the sight of him where he belonged. She'd never liked it

that he'd spent so much time at the university in that tiny room he had there.

"Sylvie," he smiled in return, standing for one of her hugs.

Sylvie was in her late 50's, rather well-rounded, with a beaming face that reflected her

Polish descent. Grey streaked through her short, tightly-curled brown hair. He held his

arms out for her greeting, knowing exactly what she liked to do. Her plump arms went

around his middle and she squeezed hard as he tried to avoid letting a little 'oomph'

escape his lips.

Eden, watching, grinned. Sylvie was part of this house, too, and she obviously adored

Marshall. Eden rose, waiting, as Sylvie patted Marshall's cheeks, studying his face.

"You look good," she finally pronounced, "though still a bit thin." She knew about what

he'd been through with the gully and the convicts, though not the sleigh accident.

Satisfied, she turned toward Eden and smiled beneficently. "You saved him," were the

first words out of her mouth.

"I think he's saved me every bit as much as I saved him," she smiled, her eyes going to

Marshall.

Sylvie saw the look, saw all the love it contained, and again she was satisfied. "You are

a good wife for him. I see that." She nodded her head several times. "Yes, a good wife."

"The best, Sylvie," Marshall affirmed.

"The roads are all right this morning?" Eden asked.

"The roads? Pah! I never mind the roads. It's him." She looked, brow knitted, at Marshall.

"He is the one who should be more careful where he walks."

"I am careful," Marshall smiled.

"You think I do not know of the gully, then? Or of the forest?"

"I called and told you about the gully," Marshall reminded her, "and the forest was all over

the newspapers."

"Does she know about the sleigh turning over?" Eden asked.

"Shhhh!" Marshall made a little face.

"Sleigh? There was a sleigh? Did you get hit by a sleigh?" She narrowed her eyes at him.

"No, Sylvie, I didn't get hit by a sleigh. Just tossed out of one. But, as you see, I'm fine."

"He's always 'fine'," Eden sighed, "even when...."

"Shhh!" Marshall said again.

Sylvie pushed him, making him sit back down. "Tell me," she ordered. "What is it you do

not wish me to know, my Marshall?"

"It was night," he sighed, "of Christmas Day. We were returning to the inn. Sleigh hit a rock

and flipped us out on the road. That's all."

"And you were not hurt?" She looked from his face to Eden's.

"I wasn't," Eden said quickly. "He...he cushioned my fall."

"With what?"

"Um, with himself."

"And you were not hurt?" She rested her hand on his shoulder. He tipped his face down, not

wanting to replay this in front of Eden. But Sylvie was a pit bull when she wanted to know

about something. He wasn't sure what to say that wouldn't trigger something in Eden.

"You hesitate?" Sylvie noted. "Why?"

"He died," Eden said softly.

"What?" She put her hand under his chin, lifting his face up, his reluctance clearly writ.

"What does Eden mean you died?"

"Just briefly," he whispered. "Very briefly."

"Tell!"

"There were four of us in the sleigh. Ryan, the other man, hit my chest really hard. Started

my heart again. I'm fine. I'm really fine."

"Marshall," Sylvie said, touching her head, "if you could see, you would know how much

grey I have now in my hair. Most of it is because of you."

"Mom used to say the same thing," he grinned, trying to lighten the mood.

"She would have been entirely white with what has happened to you since you were last in

this house," Sylvie said firmly.

"But I'm home again now, and I've brought my bride with me, and we need to figure out where

to have some sort of reception dinner for the folks here in the city who didn't come to the inn."

"Are you thinking a restaurant or here?" Eden asked.

"You could have it here. I could cook," Sylvie offered.

"I know you could," Marshall replied, patting her arm, "but that's a lot of extra work. I was

actually thinking of a restaurant or some sort of small banquet hall."

"What about Monterey Bay on Mount Washington? I've always loved the view from up there."

Then she realized what she'd said. He'd never seen the glorious panorama of the city at night

all spread out below, across the confluence of the rivers. He'd never seen any view. "They've

got great food," she hurried to add.

"You'd like that?"

She'd only eaten there once, in fact, as it was quite expensive. "No, it doesn't have to be there.

It would cost a fortune."

"That's not an issue," he smiled. "Remind me to talk to you later about that. Let me ask you

again. Would you like that?"

"I don't think it matters, really, where we have it. You pick a place, any place."

"All right," he said, his lips smiling.

"Here, let me take these."  Sylvie began clearing away the breakfast dishes.

Marshall stood, following her to the sink. "I want to tell you again what a great job you did

with the master bedroom. I appreciate it all so much. It's perfect."

After they were dressed, Eden spoke up. "Do you think since the roads are ok today that we

could go by my apartment? There are some things there I'd like to bring here soon and I

need to decide what to keep and what to get rid of with the rest."

"I'd very much like to see where you lived."

She smiled at him, noting once again how he always used words like 'see' and 'look'. "It's

not much."  Not much, for sure, compared to...this.

"It's where you lived, Eden. It matters."

Coated and gloved, they went out to Eden's car, which had been moved into the garage.

Wadsworth jumped into the back seat and Eden headed north out of Mount Lebanon

toward Crafton. "To think you were so close," Marshall mused as she drove. His hand

moved to her right leg. "How could I not have known?"

Eden pulled up in the parking lot of a yellow brick, three-story apartment building,

sitting a moment, staring at it out the windshield. It had been...all right. Nothing more

than that. It was where she slept, where she hung her clothes. There was no feeling of

home about it, none. And her eggs didn't seem to be sitting well on her stomach this

morning, adding to a certain sense of malaise she had.

"What?" he asked when she didn't move.

"Just looking at it, thinking." She described it to him, even the long rust stain down

the bricks where an old gutter had developed a large hole. Thank goodness her lease

was due to be renewed the first of February. She could leave it free and clear as she'd

already paid the rent through January.

Wadsworth was in harness on his left and she took his right hand as they walked toward

the door. Her apartment was on the second floor, on the back of the squat, flat-roofed

building. She felt like an alien as she went up the stairs and down a long hallway. Had

she really lived here? It wasn't just a lifetime ago, it was somehow more than that. As

she unlocked the door, she turned her head, looking at Marshall waiting beside her.

Him, that's what made her an alien here. Maybe she'd lifted him out of the gully, but

he'd lifted her out of her whole life, set her down in a place wholly new, wholly different.

He'd set her down with him and that was where she belonged. With him. But here he

was standing in her past and it just seemed terribly...odd...to her.

He reached out, touching her cheek. "It's all right," he whispered.

"How did you know?" she breathed. "How do you always know?"

"You've merged with me. I can't not know."

"I love you, Marshall Sinclair."

"I know."

She opened the door, aware he wouldn't know the arrangement of the rooms, the furnishings,

glad he had Wadsworth in harness. She gave him a quick tour. There was only the small

living room, one bedroom, a little kitchen with room for a table at one end. When he was

seated on her bed, she rummaged through her closet and her dresser, packing into a suitcase

some items she'd been wishing she had. The furnishings had come with the apartment, so

there was nothing large she'd have to deal with. She and Connie could pack some cardboard

boxes with her few decorative items, the books, CDs, things like that. Other than that, there

would just be the rest of her clothes, make-up, a bit of jewelry. It wouldn't be complicated at

all leaving here.

She sat down next to him, taking his hand, needing the contact, sighing as she looked around

the room, her stomach still rather 'off'.

"You weren't happy here?" he asked.

"I was a widow here," she replied, her voice low. "A widow who went to work and came here

to sleep, maybe read, watch a DVD."

"What about work? Do you want to start back soon?"

"I don't know. I'm not sure. I just...."

"What?"

"I just want to be with you, and you're not teaching right now. I don't want to go off and leave

you during the day."

"You don't have to, you know."

"What do you mean?"

He lifted her hand, kissing her knuckles. "Remember I told you my father was a financier?

And that he was good at it?"

"Umm hmmm," she nodded.

"Well, he was, shall we say, very, very good at it."

"How good?"

"Extremely good, almost unbelievably good."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying basically that neither of us has to work unless we want to. If you'd like, we can

just...write...become full-time authors. Maybe travel, let you see the Li River Valley, that

sort of thing. Then you can write about it."

She blinked, trying to comprehend what he was saying. "You mean...?"

"I do mean, yes."

"Really?"

"Really." He began to smile broadly.

"Oh...my...goodness!" She stood quickly, then felt dizzy, really, really dizzy. "Ohhh!" she

gasped.

"What's wrong?" He stood, too.

"I think I'm going to...." And she started to crumple.

"Eden!" He managed to grab her before she hit the floor and, his face a mask of worry, lay

her on the bed, leaning over her, his hands moving over her face. "Eden?"

He thought he knew where the bathroom was and hurried there, almost tripping over the

suitcase she'd left sitting in the middle of the room. He found a wash cloth, wet it, and came

back to the bed, kneeling beside it, gently wiping her face. "Eden," he murmured, "come on,

Eden. Wake up."

She moaned and turned her head to the side. "Wh...what?"

"You fainted, darling. Are you ill?"

The thing that had been playing around in the back of her mind the last few days, suddenly

surfaced. "I think," she licked her lips, "I think, Marshall, that I'm pregnant."

ON TO PART 86

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