THE  CAVERN  OF  DEEP  HARMONY

PART TWO:

Martha, the older woman who'd checked her into the b&b, had been very pleasant, very welcoming, but still Eden found herself lying atop the covers on the canopy bed, staring out the window toward the lake, wondering just why she'd come. Her suitcase remained unpacked on the stand at the foot of the bed, her jacket tossed crookedly on the windowseat.  She'd kicked off her shoes, sending them flying helter skelter across the room. It was a beautiful day. Damn it! Why couldn't the rains have continued? At least they matched her mood better than all this disgusting sunlight.

Having risen at the crack of dawn, she'd driven the three hours northeast from Pittsburgh just so she could get out of the city as quickly as possible.  Her cousin Connie, used to Eden's flights
from unpleasant situations, had recently stumbled across the website for the Morning Glory Inn while looking up information about flowers and suggested it to Eden.

"Morning Glory Inn?" Eden frowned. "Is it entirely covered by twining vines?"

"No, see," Connie had replied, calling her cousin over to the computer. "It looks really pretty."

"Hmmmm?" Eden mumbled, peering over Connie's shoulder. "I don't know that I want... pretty."

"Sure you do!" Connie chirped. "Look. It's got a big porch, a swing, even a lake."

"Not particularly fond of lakes. You know that."

"Well, it's too cold for swimming already anyway. You can just sit on the porch and look at the darn thing."

"Do I have to?"

"What? Look at the lake? Nah, you can ignore the lake. Just rest, eat some nice breakfasts, read a few books."

"Sounds exciting."

"You want excitement? You can just stay here. I'll figure out something."

Eden didn't know what she wanted.  "I'm so stupid," she muttered.

"Ok, I'll agree with that," Connie laughed. "But why in particular?"

"Oh, I don't even know, Connie! I just feel...stupid today. I feel...done...over...lost...I don't know. I just feel...off."

Connie studied her cousin.  Deep auburn hair that brushed her shoulders,  eyes almost a clear green, perfectly oval face with a small, straight nose above a mouth that used to smile all the time. "You don't look very 'over' to me, kid."

"That's part of the problem, don't you see? I was 34 last month. I feel like I've already lived my life and now I just look back on it, remember it, and that's all."

Connie smiled fondly at her younger cousin. Tomorrow it would be four years since Miles had been killed. Miles, the quintessential Irish cop with the laughing eyes and lilting tenor voice.  Miles, shot down on what looked like a routine drunk driver stop. Friendly, jovial, open Miles ...everybody's buddy, everybody's friend. "I think you need to get out of the city for a little while, Eden. Just relax, take some time to think. Maybe you'll come up with something new you want to do. Are you tired of the paper? Is that it?"

"No, it's not the paper, Connie, it's me. It's what's left of me. I don't think there's enough left, not really, to make a go of anything. The job on the newspaper, that's not so bad, you know. It's about the only thing that's not so bad, though." She shrugged.

"Yeah, if you didn't have that you'd probably stay in your apartment alone every evening, wouldn't you?"

"Probably would," Eden agreed.  "Especially after Collier."  Collier was an architect she'd dated for six months last year. "Pompous ass."

Connie laughed. "That's true! He was definitely that. At least you didn't marry the guy."

Eden rolled her eyes and looked back at the picture of the Morning Glory Inn on the website.

It was a large pale yellow Victorian house with lots of dormers and bay windows, sharp gables limned in white gingerbread, a big porch all the way across the front that faced the lake. Already a bit late in the fall, but there would still be a lot of leaves yet on the trees. Maybe a

few twining vines wouldn't be so bad. "I really would like to just sort of be alone tomorrow,"

she sighed.

Connie tapped the computer screen. "Go for it, Eden. You said you've got vacation time from the paper.  Call Marti and tell him you're going to be out of the office for a while. He'll understand. He knows about...."

Yes, Marti knew about Miles. You couldn't know Eden and not know about Miles. It was as though half of her, probably more than half, lay buried in Queen of Heaven. "But it's prime fall movie season," Eden protested, not taking her eyes off the house. "So many reviews to write.
I can't...."

"Barbara can do them, you know she can. She'd love to. Come on, kid, give yourself a break." She jerked her head toward the computer. "It's callin' your name. Eeeeeee-den. Eeeeeee-den. Come to me!"

Eden laughed.  It WAS a lovely place. Maybe a few days away from the city would perk her

up? If she stayed here, memories of Miles would be everywhere. Last year she'd rather wallowed in them, in fact, going to all the places he used to take her, sitting in her car

outside the house he'd grown up in, then going to the cemetery and standing there until the

sun set. She'd gotten all too professional at wallowing in the last four years. But this inn, there was nothing that connected it to Miles. Did she want that? Did she really want to be so away from everything that still shouted out his name to her?

"You need to go, Eden," Connie said seriously, interrupting her thoughts. "Really you do."

So...here she was, lying on the bed and not at all sure she'd done the right thing. Getting up, she padded in her stocking feet to the window seat, tossed her jacket on the back of a rocking chair and sat down, propping her elbows on the white window sill and her chin on her elbows. The
morning sun glinted off the lake and she could still see reds and yellows in the maples and sweet gums where the woods came down to the shore off to the left. She remembered when she was little how she would gather the leaves and press them in the big old atlas her father had. It had
been a while since she'd walked in the woods.  The largest area of trees she usually saw any more was when she visited Miles' grave.

Damn! There, she'd done it! She'd brought him fresh again into her day. There was no way she could not, though, not really. Four years ago this morning. She remembered brushing her hair while he sang "Four Green Fields" in the shower. How odd, somehow, that he had shaved, had
tied his shoelaces, had eaten the bagel and cream cheese, had kissed her good-bye. Like always. Simple things, things he did every single day. Only that day was the last time. And you didn't even know it. You didn't know it so you didn't treasure what he did as he did it. And then
he was gone. Poof! Gone. No more "Four Green Fields", no more shoelaces, no more bagels, and no more kisses good-bye. She smacked her forehead against the windowpane just a little too hard.

Keeping her face there against the glass, she stared at the lake for a long while.  Then a large V of Canada geese flew over the water, heading south. "Going somewhere," she  murmured. "Not like me."  Inhaling deeply, she leaned back away from the window and turned her head, her
eye falling on the jacket she'd tossed.  Hmmmm? Seemed about the right weight for going out-side. Maybe she'd just check out the gardens around the house for a bit, let the sun shine on her face.  She unpacked, hanging her clothes in the large wardrobe, and changed into a pair of soft grey slacks and a peach-colored pull-over sweater. Slipping on her tennis shoes, she picked up the jacket and headed down the staircase.

Once out the door, she paused on the top step. Did she want to go down by the lake or just walk in the gardens?  As she stood there, an orange maple leaf blew by, landed on the walk at the bottom of the steps and did a series of three cartwheels before settling flat. Ah, yes, leaves. Maybe she'd gather some leaves and press them in a book? Do something she'd done back in happy days. She felt downright cheerful at the thought of gathering some leaves, so turned the corner and headed toward the parking area and the path she saw that led toward the woods behind the inn.

Now she was glad the rains had stopped and the sun was drying the leaves. Wet leaves didn't press nearly so well as dry ones. Just at the edge of the woods grew a yellow maple with several sweeping branches hanging low.  She stepped off the path and walked under the tree, liking the way the sunlight played on the leaves, making some of them almost transparent.  Choosing three or four of the larger, unblemished ones, she pulled them off the branch and carried them with her as she went back to the path. She remembered so clearly being about nine and gathering leaves with her father. "Ah, Dad," she smiled, the leaves making her feel connected to him.

She found red maple leaves, multicolored sweet gum leaves, bright orange sassafras, yellow oak leaves with brown markings. "Way too many," she thought aloud. '"I'll have to sort them when I get back to the inn."  The sun went behind a cloud just then and she shivered in the suddenly chill air. "Maybe I should go back. This is way more than I need anyway."

She'd just turned on the path when something large broke through the underbrush off to one side. She froze. "Oh, God! Not a bear!"

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