THE CAVERN OF DEEP HARMONY

PART THIRTY-FIVE:

"Oh, God!" she cried softly. "It's you!"

"Who else would it be?" he asked, puzzled.

"I thought maybe it was still Odysseus, or maybe Longfellow."

He turned his head more toward her, remembering to open his eyes. "You've lost me, darling."

"I almost did," she nodded. "I really almost did."

"Not like that," he smiled. "Now, you've lost me now. What are you talking about?"

"You. You...kinda...went away. Somewhere in the Aegean or by the shining big sea waters. I don't know."

He still had no idea what she meant. "Eden...I....."

"It's ok. It's all ok. You're back. And you're not speaking Greek."

"Greek?"

"Yep. According to the staff you entertained them with the Odyssey most of the night."

"I did?"

"You did, indeed. I came in on the tail end of it myself."

He blew out a breath.  "I don't remember."

"Doesn't matter. All I care about is that you're back."  She picked up his hand. "How are you feeling?"

"You know that old saw about 'Did you get the number of the truck?'? I think I got run over by a whole convoy."  He closed his eyes, trying to ease his legs into a better position, clamping his teeth as he did so. Somehow, the movement made him aware of his chest and his left hand
reached up, feeling along the tube.

"What the heck is that?"

"Chest tube, draining your pleural cavity."

"My pleural cavity needs...draining?"

"Mmm hmm," she said. "Double pneumonia wasn't quite enough for you, my love. You went on into pleurisy and empyema."

"I'm not sure I want to know what that last word means," he replied with a wry smile, then coughed, which hurt like blue blazes.

Maria came in then, saw her patient was awake and greeted him in classical Greek. He cocked one eyebrow in surprise and returned the greeting.  "She's the one who told us what you were talking about this morning," Eden explained. "This is Maria Papadopolous."

Maria took his temperature. "Fever's down. 102.5."  She checked his drainage tube, read all

the monitors, adjusted the IV, and made notes on his chart. "Doing good, Dr. Sinclair. Keep it up and I suspect you'll have your own room by morning."

"I'm not in a regular room?" he asked Eden as Maria left.

"ICU," she explained. "You were in really bad shape when you finally got to the inn."

"I got all the way to the inn?"

"Well, to the dock. That's where we found you, half on-half off the dock. Wadsworth had gotten to you first. Was lying there with his head atop your head."

"Where is he, Eden? Where's Wadsworth now?"

"At the inn. Won't let him in ICU. Mike went by at lunch, took him out for a bit. But all he wants is to get to you."

"He needs...."  But his eyelids had begun to droop. "Oh, Eden," he murmured, "so hard to stay awake."  He made some little sighing sounds. "Hurts. Hurts...everywhere. So tired. So...."  His head tipped to the side on the pillow.

She sat there a long time after that, just holding his hand. He slept the rest of the afternoon. Maria stopped by, commenting that it was the best thing for him.

Mike had just shaved and trimmed his moustache and now stood staring at himself in the

mirror over his bathroom sink. He never shaved twice in one day. He frowned at his reflection. "What do you think you're doing, Mike Johnson?"  He'd shaved again because he was going

to pick Eden up at the hospital. "You're acting like you're damn courting the woman," he admonished himself. "And you're not. You know that's impossible."  Eden was spoken for.

Hard as that was sometimes to swallow, he knew the fact of it. No way was he going to try and woo Eden away from Marshall. "Couldn't even if you tried."  He knew that, too. Good Lord,

the man spoke Greek, for Pete's sake, when he was out of his head. Greek!  And he was a good man, really good. Mike liked him a lot. But all that just somehow made it harder.

Eden was, what, 34? Mike had turned 43 in mid-November. He looked at himself critically. Light brown hair with a lot of greying to it. Men in his family greyed early.  He had almost startlingly light blue eyes beneath full brows and lean, straight cheeks leading down to a

strong, squarish chin.  After work, he'd showered, dressing in a blue and cream checked shirt and slim jeans. His wide leather belt had a large buckle with an engraved deer on it. He kinda liked big buckles. Had never been sure just why, but he did.  He was tall, almost 6' 4", and the heels of his boots made him even taller. All his life he'd worked hard, first on his father's farm, then a stint in the Army,  and now he worked for both the Sheriff's Department and as a paramedic. On his downtime, he hunted and fished and hiked...and helped rid Martha of any excess supply of cookies.

He'd met LeeAnn when he was in the Army.  Things had been ok at first, but when he got out and came back home, she didn't like the rural life and started not liking him so much, either. They'd had a small house in town, but after she left and took the girls, he'd built this log cabin
for himself.  From scratch, too, not some kit. There was nothing quite like running your hand down a smooth log you'd peeled yourself.

Wiping his face dry, he grabbed his keys, put on the old brown leather flight jacket his uncle had worn years ago, and went out the door, stopping by the inn to tend to Wadsworth. He really liked Wadsworth, too. Another man's dog. Another man's woman. He sighed, turning off his lights in the hospital lot. "You need a life of your own," he told himself.

He'd called, so she was waiting for him just inside the glass doors, the reflection of a large 'Exit' sign, lying in a red glow on her chestnut hair. "Hi, there," he greeted casually, "sounds like the news is good."

"It is, Mike. He woke up and talked to me earlier this afternoon. In English," she added with a bit of a laugh.

It was easy to see her spirits were up now that Marshall was clearly going to pull through.

"I'm real glad to hear that." He opened the door of his truck for her. "Bit of a high step there. Watch yourself."  Closing her door, he walked around to the driver's side, getting in. He
looked sideways at her as he started the engine. "You had anything to eat since that thermos of soup?" 

"Not a bite," she replied. "I guess I'll have to see what Martha's got left over in the kitchen."

"We could stop by Annie's," he suggested.

"What's Annie's?"

"Little cafe just around the corner. Nothing fancy, but the food's great. You want to do that?"

"Sounds fine by me," she nodded. "That way I can just fall into bed when I get to the inn."

As Mike drove the four blocks, he kept mentally kicking himself. What do you think you're DOING? Taking her out to eat like you had some right. How big of a fool do you intend to make yourself, anyway?

He opened the cafe door for her, a series of little attached bells tinkling to announce their arrival. The window of the door had a valance of red and white checked cloth and the eight tables that made up the entire dining area each had a matching cloth with a small votive candle burning in the center.

"Hi, Annie," he said, taking Eden's coat and hanging it on a wall rack, then putting his flight jacket beside it. "Like you to meet Eden, Eden McLaughlin, from Pittsburgh."

"Glad to meet you, hon," Annie replied with a big smile. "Heard how you and Mike here traipsed all over the forest looking for that poor Dr. Sinclair."

Eden smiled back at the pleasant, stout woman. "Yes, we did. But it was a lot easier for us than it was for him."

"I bet," Annie said, shaking her head so that the brown bun at the nape of her neck woggled from side to side. Eden couldn't help wondering how it didn't just come completely loose.

Mike led Eden to a table near a large front window that looked out toward the lake. A low red and white valance didn't block the view and Eden found her eyes pulled to the lake. The moon had sailed out from between the clouds and silver light lay like a veil of blessing, somehow come loose from the heavens, settling down upon the calm waters. "It's so peaceful tonight," she murmured. "So easy to relax at last and just...be."

"You've got to be really tired, I imagine."

"I am. I don't know when I've done such a continuous stretch of exercise as we did yesterday. And the worry. That was worse."

"He's going to be all right, though. That's what matters."

"Yes," she sighed. "That's all that matters."

She picked up the menu. "I think I just want something simple and maybe kind of country." 

She decided on hot turkey slices and gravy over thick white bread. "I eat much of that and I'll have to roll myself out through the door!" she laughed. "But I'm going to anyway."

"Won't hurt you," he commented. "Your...," he stopped. He was going to say that her body was just lovely. "You're not the least fat."

"Not yet," she chuckled, "but check again after I eat that."

It was good. Hot and tasty and good. As she sipped her tea, she looked at Mike across the table. "You're such a good friend to me, Mike. To both of us. I just want to be sure you know how much we appreciate that."

He smiled, setting his napkin carefully down. "Thanks, Eden. You two are pretty easy to be friends with."

She yawned widely, covering her mouth with her hand. "Sorry. I guess I'm more tired than I thought."

He stood. "Well, let me get you back to the inn, then, so you can get a good rest." He paid the bill and fetched her coat. "I'll come by and take you to the hospital in the morning. Your car should be ready by my lunch break, so I'll get it for you and drop it by the hospital lot. Then

you won't need me to drive you home tomorrow evening."

She looked up at him. Up was the right word. He was nearly a foot taller than she was. "You've done so much for me, Mike. And you always make me feel like it's ok, that you don't mind. I can't thank you enough for that."  She stretched up on tiptoe and kissed him lightly on his left
cheek. "We're so lucky to have you as our friend."

His cheek was still tingling as he drove down the dark road to his cabin after dropping her off.  Damn, damn, damn!

ON TO PART 36

BACK TO LIBRISCROWE

BACK TO PART 34

BACK TO INDEX