THE CAVERN OF DEEP HARMONY

 

PART THIRTY-FOUR:

 

 

Marshall licked his lips, trying to speak.

"Eden," he managed again.

"Right here, darling. Right here. I love you. ... I love you."

He knew she was there! She almost moaned with the relief of it.

"So tired..."

"I know, darling. I know. You went so far."

"Can't...."

"It's all right, darling. It's all right. You're right here in the hospital now. Everything's all right."

"Don't know...."

"What don't you know, sweetheart? Everything's all right. You're ok. You're going to be just fine."

"Way...don't know...way."

"What? What way, sweetheart?"

"Don't know," he repeated. "Too cold."

"Cold? Are you cold, darling? Do you need more blankets?"

"Poor Longfellow."

She sat back a bit. Poor Longfellow? What did he mean, Poor Longfellow?

"Ages...," he mumbled. "Unremembered ages."

Her lips parted and she stared at him, something thick and solid settling through the center of her joy. He didn't know she was there.

He made a sound like a long, sad sigh. "...days that are forgotten...
In the unremembered ages."

Her tears over-brimmed. He wasn't back yet. Maybe he'd left that rock by the sea, but he hadn't come home to her in the hospital. Not yet.  Feeling like the edges of her soul were wearing off, becoming thin and brittle, she lay her cheek down on the edge of his bed and closed her eyes.

Maria came back, finding Eden asleep like that. She knew Hersholtz would have wakened her, made her leave, but Maria went quietly about, performing the checks on Marshall she needed to do, then left.

She slept nearly half an hour, waking with a start, not having meant to drift off like that. Her back was stiff, so she stood, stretching her muscles. Marshall was lying peacefully now. Perhaps he'd got to a place beyond remembered pain. She had no way of knowing. Her tummy growled and she decided to go out to the waiting room where she'd seen a vending machine. Maybe

some chips and a Coke would see her through till supper.

Trying to stuff several quarters into the machine, she let one slip and it rolled away on its edge. A male foot settled atop it, stopping its flight. "That supposed to be lunch?" Mike said, eyeing the small bag of chips in her hand.

She smiled wryly and shrugged. "Didn't want to take time for the cafeteria."

"Any change?"

"Hersholtz says the antibiotics seem to be starting to work, but I haven't seen any real change

in him so far. When he's not speaking Greek, he's still lost in the woods." She looked at Mike more carefully. "What're you up to?"

"I'm off to the inn to walk Wadsworth. Anything there you need me to bring back?"

She hadn't thought of that. Anything he could bring back? Hmmmm? Nothing for her. Was there anything for Marshall? That triggered an idea. "Yes, Mike, there is something I'd like

you to bring."

"You name it."

"In the parlor, there's that small CD player. You know the one I mean?"

He nodded.

"Will you bring me that and the CD...should be in that stack near the player...the one with the word 'Tuscany' on the cover? I have an idea I'd like to try."

"Sure thing," he smiled. "Anything else?"

"Can't think of anything right now, Mike. I know Wadsworth will be glad to see you, get out

for a bit. Thanks so much for doing that."

He turned when he'd gotten about 5 steps away. "Oh, Eden, I talked with Pete about your car. They had it towed into town. Had a broken strut and needed two new tires. I've arranged for

it to be taken to Herb's garage. He's a cousin of mine and said he'd fix it up for you. Needs one fender hammered out a bit, too, but he's good at that. Said he'd have it for you by tomorrow afternoon. Herb doesn't want to charge you for the repair. Said he didn't feel right about it seeing as how it was the convicts ran it into the ditch and all. Everybody's kind've gotten all involved in the story of the blind professor left in the forest. Story's been all over the news,
you know. I bet even Pittsburgh's got it."

Pittsburgh? Lordy, she hadn't thought about Pittsburgh knowing it, but with her connection

to one of the two largest newspapers, of course they'd splash it all over. And Marshall being a professor at Duquesne. Connie. Connie would have heard, might even have called Eden's

parents in Florida. She didn't have her cell phone with her at the hospital.

"Mike!" she called after his back. "Ask Martha to give you my cell! I think it's on my dresser."

He gave her a thumbs up and disappeared out the door.

She should call Marti at the paper, too. There were lots of people she should call. But that wasn't foremost on her mind. Mike had handed her the runaway quarter and she went and sat on a chair in the corner, quickly gobbling her chips and taking long sips from the Coke can
she'd finally managed to get. Marshall could wake up and she needed to be there when he did.

Stopping in the doorway of his room, she saw that he lay exactly as he had when she left. "Come back, Marshall," she whispered. "Come back to me soon."  Sighing, she went in, sitting again in the chair beside his bed. Perhaps if she just talked to him?

"You should've seen Waddy, darling. He wanted to get to you so bad. Nothing was going to stop that dog. Nothing. He...."  She talked steadily for nearly 45 minutes with no response from him. Her eyes glared up at the IV bag. Damn you! she thought. Why aren't you working faster?  She rubbed her fingertips as hard as she could back and forth across her forehead, trying to stave

off a headache.

Mike paused in the doorway, watching her, seeing the tension in the way she held her shoulders. Taking a breath, he said, "Hey, there. I've got the stuff."

She didn't reply and he came into the room, squatting beside her chair. "Eden?"

"He's just lying there, Mike. Why is he just lying there?"

"He's exhausted, dar...Eden," he said softly, setting the shopping bag he had with him aside. "On top of the pneumonia and everything else, he's got to be totally exhausted."

'"I know," she said wearily, "I know that's right. It's just I need...."  A single tear began to run down her left cheek.

"Now, now," he whispered, wiping it away with his thumb. "You're practically as exhausted

as he is."  He reached into the bag. "Look, Martha sent you a thermos of her chicken soup." 

He began to unscrew the cap of the blue container. "You can't keep on like this with just potato chips, you know." He poured some into the big plastic cap. "Here, you drink this. Come on,"

he urged when she hesitated.

"Mother hen!" she snorted.

"Cluck cluck," he laughed softly.

She sipped the hot soup gratefully. "It's good," she murmured, licking her lip.

"It's Martha's," he stated. "Has to be good."

"How was Waddy?"

"Restless. I had to keep him onleash. Couldn't let him run loose. He'd have taken off down the road for the hospital."

"He would," she nodded. "He's got to see Marshall pretty soon, Mike."

"I know. But Marshall will have to be in his own room, out of the ICU before I can even think of talking people into that."

"You will, though?"

"You can count on me," he smiled, getting to his feet. "Always."

"You brought the CD?"

He reached into the bag, lifting out a CD with a picture of a Tuscan villa and a sweeping green hill leading down to some red poppies. "This the right one?"

She took it from him. "Oh, yes! This is it!"

He plugged the small CD player in for her, setting it on the little table near her chair, then placed her cell phone beside it. "I've got to get back to work now, Eden. I'll come by again at

the end of my shift so I'll be here to drive you home whenever you want."

"Thanks, Mike," she said, but her eyes were already scanning down the playlist on the back

of the CD. There it was. Track 12. Mike left and she popped the CD into the player, scanning forward until she got where she wanted, then pressed 'play', keeping the sound moderate because of where they were.

Eyes locked on his face, she waited as the melody of Vá Pensiero drifted out of the small player. There was nothing until about halfway through when he made a couple of low sounds.

 

"That's it," she urged. "You remember singing this to me in the parlor?"

She would never forget it, the sound of his whispering voice, his breath on her hair. The piece ended and she hit 12 again so it would replay.  He made some more little sounds. She played

it again. "You're not on some rock at the shore," she said, "and you're not up on the ridge in

the forest. You're here, Marshall. Here...with me." She sighed, resting her forehead on the edge of the bed, the memory of him singing so very clear.

She felt something. Not sure at first what it might be, she stayed as she was, waiting. There it

was again. Her hair was being ever so lightly touched. His fingers were moving in her hair.

She wanted to lift her head, to look at him, but didn't want to disturb what he was doing. So

she waited, feeling his fingers drifting over her hair. Finally she had to look, so tipped her head up just enough to see him. His eyes were still closed, but his lips were curved into a slight smile.

"Marshall?"

"Auburn," he said, maintaining the smile, "like the last of the rays of the setting sun."

 

 

ON TO PART 35

 

BACK TO LIBRISCROWE

 

BACK TO PART 33

 

BACK TO INDEX