(Duquesne Incline with a bit of Monterey Bay showing on top of Mount Washington)

THE CAVERN OF DEEP HARMONY

PART EIGHTY-SEVEN:

"Coming from the South Hills, you know we could've just driven up the back side of Mount

Washington," she commented, getting out of the car in the parking lot at the edge of the

Ohio River.

"No inclines on the back side."

"True, but there are roads."

"Special night," he grinned, letting Wadsworth out of the back seat. "Calls for special transport."

"You like the incline, I take it?"

He nodded, "Yup."

"Yup?"

"I'm allowed to yup from time to time." He grinned again.

"Maybe in old Tucson or Dodge, but this happens to be Pittsboig, dear lit professor mine."

"Yup."  And he took hold of Wadsworth's harness. "Wait there. Let me come around the

car to where you are."

He'd been zealous in his protectiveness for the last week, ever since she'd fainted there in her

old apartment. She'd been dizzy two or three times, but hadn't keeled over again. She smiled,

thinking that for a blind man he sure kept an eagle eye on her.

They had to go up a steep flight of steps, turn a corner, and follow the covered walkway to

the lower station of the Duquesne Incline. "So, you come here often, mister?" she asked as

he stood in line to purchase their tickets.

"Jeffrey and I used to like to ride this together. He'd describe everything you could see from

the cable car. Just seemed like a good way for us to get up to Monterey Bay this evening."

Perhaps, too, it was his way of taking his brother along with them. There was so much of his

new life he wished he could share with Jeff.

There were only three other people in the old car, January not being a major time for sight-

seeing in the 'Burgh. There were two cars, an up and a down, that passed each other

halfway along the track. Both of them were original, dating from the May 20, 1877 opening

of this incline. They took their seats on one of the wooden benches that ran around the

interior edges of the car and rose up the steep tracks at a stately 6 miles an hour.

It had been some years since Eden had ridden in one and she peered out the window at the

city, its lights already on in the early darkness of the winter evening. "Tell me what this

is like for you?" she asked him, her voice low.

"It's a working museum, you know, and it takes me right back over the years to when the

tired workers would ride this home. I'm aware of the sensation of rising and the cars have

a particular scent of old wood and polish. I know the city's out there and we're going high,

so that we're above it, with the rivers below. I imagine the lights are on now?"

"Yes, the lights are on." She knew he had no real understanding of what that meant and a

lingering pang of wishing he did shot through her and she squeezed his hand more tightly.

"Are they like the punctures?"

He hadn't really spoken for a while about what he'd seen that brief moment his heart had stopped there on the snowy road by the sleigh. "Sort of like that, only bigger, and more of them, and more colors. Lower down it's all kind of a golden glow." She studied his face. "You still think about that?"

"Sometimes. It's hard not to, you know." He was quiet a moment. "I just wish I could under-

stand what it is that you do with your eyes. I want to know that because it's your world. It'll

be the baby's world, too. And I...."

"You are my world, Marshall."

He smiled and leaned to kiss her lightly.

When they arrived at the top, they were still early for the reception, so walked along Grandview

Avenue for a while. It was a Saturday night and the area they were in was lined with restaurants, all on the north side of the street so they'd have views of the city. Monterey Bay,

though, was across the street and able to be so because it was atop the second highest building

on Mount Washington. Only the Trimont Tower was higher. She looked at the black shape of

that and frowned, trying not to think of the architect who lived there, glad she'd never ridden

the Duquesne Incline with the man.

After half an hour, they turned back toward the Monterey Bay. Marshall had invited a number

of his colleagues from the university, some neighbors from Mount Lebanon, two or three

writers he knew, a few friends he'd grown up with...and Sylvie. Ryan had been able to make it

down from Cleveland, and was bringing Connie and Edith. Eden had asked Marti from the

newspaper, several of her former co-workers, some friends. "I miss Martha and Harold," she

whispered as they went in the main entrance and into the glass elevator that would take them to the top of the building. "And Luke, and Mike and Maria." She sighed. "I think I came to feel closer to them than most of the people who're coming tonight." Her parents, of course, would not be in attendance.

(Restaurant entrance with Trimont Towers' balconies just beyond)

A large section of the restaurant had been reserved for their guests. She walked with him

through the big pillars, painted like palm trees, toward their tables. Connie was already

there with her mother and Ryan, who stood, beaming at them. Ryan couldn't look at Marshall

without remembering his desperate blow to the man's chest, so it always made him feel better

to see Marshall looking happy...and alive. "I understand congratulations are in order," he

greeted.

Edith positively glowed. She felt like a grandmother-in-waiting. Eden, for all intents and

purposes, was as much her daughter as Connie. She looked from Eden to Marshall and back

again. Yes, they were happy, complete. Her eyes traveled then to Ryan, who'd taken hold

of Connie's hand. Her girls, her two girls, both loved by wonderful men.

"What are you smiling at, Mom?" Connie asked.

"My cheeks are happy," she replied.

Gradually the rest of their guests trickled in and there was much hand shaking, hugging,

well-wishing, introducing. Marshall and Eden sat at a table with Edith, Connie, Ryan, and

Sylvie, Wadsworth tucked part way under the table, part way under Marshall's chair. The

restaurant was a popular one and quite crowded, with diners and waiters moving about.

It was famous for its fish, which were flown in daily from as far away as Hawaii. Marshall

ordered the swordfish parmesan, Eden the char-grilled ahi coated in black sesame seeds,

but Ryan, ever adventurous, had the blackened Mako shark.

"How long are you here?" Eden asked him.

"Have to be back in Cleveland for Monday morning," he replied, "but I'll have most of the

day tomorrow with Connie."

"He's found a place for our agency," Connie smiled, "out in Robinson where all the new

shops and houses are going in."

"Good spot," Marshall nodded. Connie and Ryan, both travel agents, were going to open

their own business together.

"I understand you two are going to England in early April. That still on?"

"Very on," Eden smiled. "Marshall hasn't had his Christmas present yet, you know."

Marshall whispered something in her ear about how he'd unwrapped her and she giggled.

"Isn't that your birthday, Marshall?" Edith asked.

"Yes. April 7th."

"You taking the furry one, I presume?" Connie continued.

"Don't leave home without 'im," Marshall grinned.

"I can help with the paperwork and stuff for him to go overseas if you like."

"I'd appreciate that. Thanks, Connie."

The dinner went well. At one point, Eden guided Marshall around all their tables so they

could speak again with their guests. Sylvie offered to drive Edith home so Ryan and Connie

could go off together. They went out the front entrance in a group and Eden watched tall,

slim Ryan head off down Grandview, his arm around Connie's shoulders. Then she and Marshall

crossed to the upper station of the incline and descended to the lower parking lot. She leaned

her head on his shoulder, finding she got tired more easily these days. She'd taken a home

pregnancy test that had confirmed what she thought, and had an appointment with her doctor

early next week. 

Marshall felt her head grow heavier on his shoulder and knew she'd fallen asleep. He wished

he could drive her home. How that was done totally escaped him, how people knew where other

cars were, when to turn, when to stop. Scattered punctures had not revealed things like that to

him. The sighted world was still a mystery. He sighed and woke her gently.

"We're down," he said.

"Down what?" she mumbled.

"Down the hill. Have to get off the car, darling."

He half-supported her along the covered walkway and down the steps, then opened her car door

for her. She got in, folded her arms on the steering wheel, and rested her head on them. "So

tired," she sighed.

Marshall let Wadsworth in the back seat, then got in beside Eden, pulling her over against himself. "There's no hurry. Rest a while longer."

Obediently, she immediately went back to sleep while he held her, listening to the night sounds

along the river. An hour later a train rumbled noisily along the near-by tracks and she woke

with a start. "Where...?"

"Parking lot."

"Did I sleep?"

"For a while, yes. Are you rested enough to drive?"  Damn, but he wanted to do that for her!

She yawned widely. "Umm hmm."  Then she turned, studying his profile in the parking lot

lights. His jaw seemed set a bit tightly.

"Sorry I made you wait," she murmured.

"I didn't mind."

"Is something wrong?"

"I wanted to drive you home. It didn't used to matter I couldn't."

"Oh, Marshall." She shook her head, consumed with love for him. "I know, darling, I know. But

just like you didn't mind waiting, I don't mind driving. Really I don't."

He turned his face toward the side window, his lips pressed together. It mattered to him. For

the first time in his life it really, really mattered. "You're tired, pregnant," he mumbled. "I

should be able...."

"Turn around," she said, tugging on his coat sleeve, "please."

Reluctantly he did and she slid closer to him, putting her arms around him. "Don't," she whispered, her mouth close beside his face. "Please don't. You are so utterly complete to me,

so entirely whole. Don't waste time with this. Please." She began to kiss his cheeks, his temple.

"Please?"

He turned his head, taking her mouth with his. Just then there was a loud tap on her side

window. A policeman shown his flashlight into the car. "Move along, folks," he said. "Get

a room."

He walked away and both of them laughed. "Shall we get a room?" she asked.

"I know just the one," he replied, his dour mood completely broken.

Marshall's tension had communicated itself to Wadsworth, and at the sound of the laughter

from the front seat, he let out a loud bark, joining in. Eden started the car, heading home,

her two guys in the car with her. She wondered if there were a third? Well, it was a bit early

yet to know that.

ON TO PART 88

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