THE CAVERN OF DEEP HARMONY

PART NINETEEN:

At dinner, he'd not worn his dark glasses, and sat across the small table from her, the candle between them flickering on the planes of his face. She was fascinated, watching the play of shadow and light over his strong features. This time, when his right hand lay beside his plate, she reached and placed hers atop it, thinking how much things had changed since their first dinner when she'd wanted to, but hadn't felt she had the right.

Their table was in a corner, very private. The restaurant was small, had interior walls of rough stone, a beamed ceiling, and wide plank flooring. As she held her hand over his, she described it to him. "It's almost completely lit by candlelight," she smiled. "I like it."

The waiter came and she pulled her hand back as he set their water glasses down. "If you reach your right hand out just a bit, the wall is right there," she said. "It looks like fieldstone, very rough, kind of a dark grey."

He ran his fingertips over the first stone they encountered. "I've always been fond of stone walls. The exterior of my house is rough stone."

"Tell me about your home, Marshall. I'm fairly familiar with Mount Lebanon. I know most of the older homes there are built of either stone or brick."

"It's the house I grew up in," he began, "so I know every inch of it quite well."

"Did your parents move to a smaller place then?"

"No." His voice was soft, low.

"No?" she repeated the word even more softly. "Then...?"

"I'm the only one left."

She sat back in her chair, looking at him, remembering all the things he'd told her about his family. She'd formed such a mental image of the four of them, everybody loving everybody else, the other three taking time, being careful to make sure young Marshall grew up confident and secure despite his blindness. How could they be gone, all of them? She knew about Jeffrey in Iraq, but his parents, too?

"About six months after we got the news Jeff had been killed, Dad took Mom to France. They'd been talking about it for a couple of years and...," he paused, licked his lower lip thoughtfully, then continued, "...and Dad thought it would do her good. She'd always wanted to see the lavender fields of Provence in bloom. Jeff's death was really...hard...for her. He'd always been

so larger than life, so strong, everybody always turned to him.  He just had a way of...of making things better."

He paused again, absently using his fingers to make little folds in his cloth napkin. "Tour bus went off a mountain road."

"Oh, Marshall," she breathed. "I...I...."

"Couldn't sell the place, you know. But I don't really spend all that much time there. Have a room at the University that's handier for me when I'm teaching. Works out better." 

He lifted his chin a bit and she thought for a moment he was looking at her across the table, but it was only the way the candlelight was reflected in his eyes.  Her own stung sharply as emotions surged through her. "I want...."

"What, Eden? What do you want?"

"It sounds silly."

"Not to me it won't."

"I want to surround you. I want somehow for me to be able to wrap myself around you and draw you inside of me so there's nothing between us. I've never felt like that before. Like I can't stand it another second if we're not occupying the same space.  I...,"  then she saw his face was working, his jaw muscle was moving, his lips were pressed together, and he was closing his eyes tightly.  Oh, God! Had she said the wrong thing...had she said too much? Color drained from her face as she watched his, watched him trying to...to...what? 

"Eden," he said, seeming to have some difficulty forming the word. "Eden...." Suddenly he stood, the big dog at his side instantly at attention. "Wadsworth, door!" he ordered, his voice low but firm as he found his grip on the harness.

Eden felt sick, almost dizzy, thought she might actually faint on the spot. He was going to...leave?

But he took only one step, which brought him closer to her, and said, "Outside. Come outside."  Then he and Wadsworth were making their way between the tables toward the distant doorway.

She watched him, rooted to the spot for a long moment, having no idea what was happening, feeling somehow shaken to her core. Her mouth was extremely dry and she took a long drink from her water goblet, her hand trembling so much she let large dribbles run down her chin. Dazedly she blotted them with her napkin, still not quite able to get to her feet. She folded the napkin into a neat rectangle, put it back in its place and set her unused fork on it, centering it carefully atop the napkin. Then she looked at the door again. He must already be outside. A couple of other diners were openly staring at her.

Slowly she stood, bracing herself a moment with a tight grip on the back of her chair before following where Marshall had gone. Her feet felt heavier than they had in the deep mud of the gully. It would be cold outside, so she lifted her coat off the rack near the entrance, noticing his leather jacket was still hanging there. Both coats draped over her arm, she pushed the door open and stepped out onto the small entrance porch. The sharp night air washed over her, but she made no move to put on her coat.

He was a bit off to the left, had dropped Wadsworth's harness, and was pacing back and forth near a row of clipped yews.  She'd said too much. It was too soon.  What had she been thinking? He was talking about his parents' bus going off a mountain and she'd replied that she wanted him inside her?? Her white face flooded with sudden red. Good Lord! It sounded, didn't it, like she'd made some sexual remark as a response to the death of his parents! She was horrified.

Grimly, she walked up to him. "Marshall," she began, "I didn't...."

But she didn't get to finish her explanation. He pulled her to him with his good arm and unerringly his lips found hers and he kissed her until her breath was gone.  Both coats slipped unheeded to the grass.  Her legs went so rubbery that had his arm not been so firmly around her, she might have joined the coats on the ground. He kissed her again and again and again, then with his lips still lightly brushing hers he murmured, "I couldn't do that in there, and I had to do that."

When he realized she could barely stand, he helped her to a nearby bench, sitting beside her, still holding her. Her brain was spinning wildly, jerked from one intense emotion to another.  She kept her eyes closed, clutching at his shirt, not at all sure she might not yet topple over. He didn't seem aware of the confusion, the panic that had enveloped her in the restaurant.  Her heart was still racing madly, her stomach was in knots. He'd wanted to kiss her? She thought
he was angry, was leaving, and he wanted to kiss her?

"Eden," he said, his voice soft, tender. "Eden, I love you, darling."

It was the first time he'd said that to her. She threw up in his lap.

Both of them sat there, rather stunned.  Weakly, she pulled a tissue from her pocket, wiped her mouth, then looked at his face. His lips were parted, as though he wanted to say something but couldn't quite speak. Finally he clamped his tongue between his lips.  By this time her emotions were beyond her control. He hadn't been angry with her, he'd wanted to kiss her, and now he was sitting there with his tongue like that and her lunch all over his pants and she was so relieved that she began to giggle, then hiccup, then cry and giggle more at the same time.

"Eden?"  Now he was confused, really, really confused.  He had professed his love and she'd...vomited?  Now she was laughing?  He'd pulled his tongue in and now his teeth were tightly clamped. Wadsworth was sniffing interestedly at his lap and he pushed him away. "Sit, damn it!"  He had no idea how to feel, what he was supposed to feel. "Eden?" he tried again.

She couldn't stop hiccupping and tears still ran down her cheeks as a silly giggle escaped her lips from time to time no matter how hard she tried to stop them.  Then she shivered violently. Her skin had gone all clammy just before she'd thrown up and now the cold air was becoming too much. She shivered again, hiccupping loudly.

"Your coat," he said, "where's your coat?"

"G...ground. Be...behind bench."

He reached back, felt around, located it and pulled it up around her shoulders. "Talk to me," he gritted. "What's going on?"

She was silent a moment, just breathing deeply, trying to gather the pieces of herself together.  Ah, better!  She closed her eyes, breathing in through her nose and out through her mouth, feeling her heartbeats steadying, slowing.  The scent from his lap wasn't exactly helping to calm her stomach, though.  Finally able to form words, she said, "I thought you were disgusted
with me."

"Now?"

"Not now, well, maybe now, too. But in the restaurant...you got up so suddenly and just...left. I...I thought I'd offended you."

"Offended me?" What was she talking about?

"About the wanting you inside me stuff. Your face went all strange and I thought...."

His lips curved slightly.  "You had moved me more than I could say, darling. And I desperately needed to kiss you, so I...."

"So you wanted to go outside," she whispered. "But I didn't know why. I thought...I thought...

oh, Marshall, you scared me to death. I...I...." 

"Is that why you're upset? You thought I was...angry?"

"Umm humm," she hiccupped. "You just...left...so fast. I couldn't think, couldn't imagine....  It just seemed like I'd said everything wrong."

"Oh, Eden," he smiled, sliding his arm around her shoulders. "You said everything right. Don't you know that?"

She hiccupped.

"Come here," he said softly, pulling her against him. "I understood what you meant. It was the most beautiful thing anyone has ever said to me."  He kissed her very, very gently, neither of them caring that her skirt was now in contact with his lap. "I'm so sorry I scared you, darling.

I had something entirely different in mind."

She hiccupped. "Kiss me again."

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