THE CAVERN OF DEEP HARMONY

PART EIGHTY-SIX:

Marshall paused, wet rag still poised in mid-air, his lips parting. He looked absolutely

stunned.

"Is...is that ok?" she asked, then she noticed his jaw was working. "Is it too soon? Is

that it?" Tears welled in his eyes, lots of them, overflowed...big, silent tears that began

to drip down his cheeks. Leaning more forward, he still said nothing, only laid his

head on her chest where she could feel the wetness through her blouse.

"Marshall?"

He was still silent for what seemed a terribly long moment. Wadsworth, concerned, made

a few low wuffing sounds, poking at his leg with his nose. Finally, without any attempt to

dry his cheeks, he straightened, gathering her into his arms. He tried to speak, made a

little croaking sound, and just pressed her carefully to himself.  She waited, almost holding

her breath. His chin was atop her head and she couldn't see his face.

He cleared his throat, trying again. "We...we...I don't...." He cleared it again, blowing

out a long breath. "We don't know, oh, God, we really don't know how empty our cup is

until it suddenly fills to the brim and...and...splashes over in its fullness. I...for so long...I

thought...I just expected...I never...."

He changed her position so she could see his face. "Family. That was everything to me for

most of my life. Everything. What mattered, all that really mattered, you know. Then it was

gone, all of it...gone. And then...," he squeezed his eyes tightly closed, "there was you. You.

In the most isolated, desperate aloneness of my life...you. And...and...now this. You're

making me a whole new family and I...."

She cupped his face in her hands. "I love you," she whispered, kissing him softly.

"Oh, God, Eden!"  He began kissing all over her face.

"So," she managed to gasp, "it's ok then?"

"How much?"

"How much is it ok?"

"How much pregnant?"

"Rather completely, I'd say."

"How...?"

"I had a bit of help in that department," she chuckled, "as you may recall."

"How long?"

"Not long. I think I'm just sorta beginning."

"September? Early September?"

"Probably. I'll need to see a doctor before long to get a real due date."

His hand came up to his mouth, and he tipped his head down, closing his eyes. "You all

right?" she asked.

He nodded, not lifting his head. "What's going on?" she tried.

"Heart's expanding."

"Like the Grinch?"

"Something like that," he smiled, now raising his head, "only I've never stolen a Christmas

tree."

"Good thing. Our little Cindy Lou Sinclair might not like that."

He laughed at that. "Cindy Lou, eh?"

"Well, that was the kid in the story, you know. Cindy Lou Who."

"Might be a boy."

"Ok. Horatio Grumsdorfer Sinclair."

"Gads!" He shook his head. "Good thing we have about eight and a half months to arm

wrestle over this."

"Good thing," she agreed. "Can we have lunch now? I'm hungry."

He took both her hands in his. "You're really all right now? You scared me when you

fainted."

"Turn about's fair play," she smiled. "Yes, I'm fine." Then she chuckled because that's what

he always said. "I really am. And junior wants to eat."

He stood, taking Wadsworth's harness in his left hand, reaching for hers with his right.

"Suitcase," she said.

"Damn! I don't want you carrying that and I want to hold onto you on the stairs. I can't have

you fainting again and falling down the steps."

He got it out the door to the hallway. Bob, who had an apartment on the same floor, was

just coming out his door. He was a gym teacher at the local high school. "Bob!" she called

out, pleased at the timing. "Could you do me a favor?"

"Hey there, Eden. Good to see you back." He came down the hall toward them, noting the

harness and the guide dog.

"Bob, this is my husband, Marshall. Marshall, Bob."

"Husband, eh? Well, glad to meet you, Marshall."

"I'm going to be living in his house now," Eden explained. "Would you mind getting this

suitcase down the steps for me? I'd really appreciate it."

"Sure. No problem." He carried it all the way out to her car, in fact.

She drove to the Olive Garden in Greentree. "He wants pasta."

"Who wants pasta?"

"Horatio wants pasta."

He shook his head, his lips curving into a smile. "All right, then, pasta."

"Can't disappoint the little guy."

"With a name like that, he's bound to encounter at least a little disappointment."

"Not from me. He wants pasta. I give him pasta."

The travel agency where Connie worked was just a bit down Greentree Road from the

restaurant, so after Horatio had had his fill of pasta, they stopped by there.

"Eden!" Connie looked up from her computer. "Marshall! How great you guys stopped in."

"I've got good news," Eden beamed.

"I can always use some of that, Cuz. Lay it on me."

"You're going to be an aunt."

Connie's eyes widened. "Really? Wow!"

Connie was really Eden's first cousin, but no sisters had ever been closer, so in her mind,

'aunt' was the proper word. "Probably September," Eden added. "Haven't been to the

doctor yet."

"You heard from Ryan?" Marshall asked.

"Constantly." Her eyes flickered to her computer screen. "He's working to get that

Cleveland office in shape. Says he'll be here as soon as he can."

"I really like him, Connie," Eden smiled. "And it doesn't hurt that he's Martha and Harold's

son, either."

"How're the new digs?" Connie asked.

"I want you to come over when you get a chance. You've got to see it for yourself." She wrote down the address on a piece of paper, handing it to her cousin. "Bring Edith. We'll have dinner or something."

"She'll like that. I'll like that. Where you two off to now?"

"Back home," Marshall said. He wanted to be alone with her...soon.

Sylvie had gone by the time they arrived and Marshall led her into their bedroom, having

gotten Wadsworth settled by the living room fireplace with a large rawhide chew. He closed

the door. "Where are you?"

"Sitting on the bed."

"Good choice."  He walked toward her, exuding something almost startlingly male. Not that

he didn't always, but there seemed to her eyes something slightly different, almost...more. Had

fatherhood done that to him? She didn't know, but she was ready to find out. She lay back as

he crossed the room.

"You're feeling all right...right now?"

"I think I may even be a bit better than all right."

He smiled, kneeling beside the bed. "I need to gaze at your tummy."

"It looks just the same right now."

"I know, but it's not. It's utterly changed."

She raised her arms over her head while he unbuttoned her blouse and pulled its hem out of

the waistband of her slacks. Then he pulled her slacks halfway down over her hips so her torso

lay bare. She bit her lip, looking at the intensity on his face. He was thinking about the baby

and yet she was aware of her wetness already between her legs. He lay both of his palms across

her flat belly, closing his eyes, just leaving them there a long while, then moving them, replacing

them with his left cheek.

"I love you," he murmured.

"Me?"

"Both of you." Without opening his eyes, he said almost dreamily, "Did you ever think that this

is the only time that two souls occupy the same space at the same time?" He sighed. "Mother

and child." His voice held a quiet note of awe.

"I need you," she whispered.

He lifted his head and, sliding his hand inside her slacks, pushed them all the way down, setting

them on the floor, then kissed his way up her legs, lingering over her belly as his hands reached

behind her, unfastening her bra. She loved looking down at his face when he was loving her,

and right now she thought of Michelangelo running his expert hands over some piece of marble

he was about to carve. "Cararra," she mumbled.

"What?" He paused briefly.

"Quarry. Italy."

"Michelangelo's?"

"Umm hmm. I was feeling like a block of marble. Remember how he said the sculpture was

already in the marble and he just had to find it, remove the pieces that didn't belong, and the

sculpture would appear?"

"Are you my block?"

She nodded.

He smiled. "You're not very square, you know." His hands cupped around her breasts. "And

other than your clothing, I don't think there's anything that needs removing. But," his tongue

slid down her throat, "I'll see what I can do."

She tried to keep watching him, but his hands, his mouth were taking her places where thought

couldn't follow and all she could do was arch her back and make little sounds under his touch.

(Top picture is the Cararra quarry as it looks in modern times)

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