THE CAVERN OF DEEP HARMONY

PART THIRTY-NINE:

Eden sat there looking out the windows longer than she had intended. Time had gotten lost somewhere in the depth of her thinking. Suddenly she looked at her watch and scrambled to her feet, heading off at a fast trot toward the elevator that would take her up to the third floor where Marshall's private room was located.  She paused just outside the door, one of those wide hospital doors they can wheel a bed through. It had 303 on a small central plaque and for some reason she noticed the natural design in the grain of the wood right under that formed what looked strikingly like a large eye. Not sure just why she paused outside like she was doing, she considered that maybe it was the mere fact the door was closed. Did that mean he wasn't awake yet?

A blonde nurse passing down the long hallway with a small tray of meds said, "You can go on

in, Miss McLaughlin. Dr. Hersholtz has arranged extended visiting hours for you."

"Thank you," she murmured in reply. Did everyone in the hospital know who she was?  She turned, following the slim nurse with her eyes until the woman disappeared in a different doorway.  Just then Mike came around the far corner from the elevators, Wadsworth
onleash.  The dog hurled himself forward at her sight and scent and Mike let him go.

Wadsworth barreled down the corridor straight at her as she smiled and backed up against the wall for support in case he decided to go for a full-out greeting with all 120 pounds of himself. But, excited as he was, he didn't jump up on her, just pressed close, wiggling his entire body, looking for bare skin to lick.

She squatted, letting him kiss her cheeks and neck for a moment, her arms going around him. "Oh, Waddy! They let you in!!" Her eyes lifted over the dog's big head to Mike, who had stopped part-way down the hall. "Thank you, Mike! This is just wonderful!"

She got the leash in her hands as she stood. Mike made no move to come forward. "Aren't you coming in to say hi to Marshall?"

"Got to get back to work," he shrugged. "Shift's not over yet. Maybe later."

As she watched him walk away, she wished she knew what had changed. Something had. That easy openness between them was gone. But Wadsworth seemed to sense Marshall beyond the closed door and her attention was pulled, literally, back to him.

"So you think your guy is in there, do you?"  Giving him a last quick pat on his neck, she opened the door, bracing back to keep him from dashing in and leaping on Marshall.  Just what he needed was 120 pounds on his chest right about now.

The room was larger, much more like an actual room than the little space in ICU had been with only space for one small chair beside the bed.  303 actually had a wallpaper border around the tops of the walls, was painted a warm beige and had a painting of an English cottage garden a

bit to the right of the mounted TV set. The head of Marshall's bed had been cranked up a bit, but he lay there, his eyes shut, looking as though he were still asleep. That was good because he needed rest and he wasn't hurting when he was asleep. But she had a huge dog on a leash, a dog who desperately needed some contact with the man who'd become his life. She paused, trying

to decide what to do, both arms straining to keep Wadsworth in check. Wadsworth was whining, pulling hard. Gradually, she let him inch across the room toward the bed.  Perhaps this was an idea whose time had not come?

But Wadsworth, well aware that after a tortuous crossing of the desert he had at last arrived at the gates of Mecca, was not going to be put off. One short, utterly piercingly sharp bark sounded in the room. Marshall's head turned a bit.

"Oh, Waddy!" Eden sighed. This was all her fault.

Only half-awake, Marshall seemed to realize, though, who was now in the room with him. One corner of his mouth quirked up slightly and as he moved his left hand to the very edge of the

bed, he murmured sleepily, "My family."

Eden stared at him. Had he said what she thought he had?

Wadsworth made it to the hand and for the moment it was enough. He licked and licked and licked it, his tongue going carefully between each of Marshall's fingers as though it were terribly important not to miss a single spot. Marshall lay quietly, letting him. Purell could come later. He had no memory of Wadsworth's arrival on the dock, of how the dog had lain beside him, his muzzle on Marshall's head. For Marshall, this was the first time he'd been with Wadsworth since the moment he'd closed the bedroom door, leaving him there just to pop out and ask
Eden where she'd moved his cough medicine. Both corners of his mouth curved up as the dog continued his industrious licking.

"Hi there, boy," he murmured, still not moving. He knew somehow that if he moved, moved absolutely anything but his hand, his whole body would shatter into little sharp shards. At the sound of Marshall's voice, Wadsworth's tail wagged furiously and his hand licking took on even
greater fervor.

"Eden?"

"I'm here, darling."  She moved close to the other side of the bed, her hand hovering, afraid to let it rest on him anywhere. Wadsworth looked like he could be trusted at this point not to jump up on the bed. She'd watched the dog's face. Despite the evident joy of reunion, there was a
certain gravity to it as though he knew by some instinct that Marshall was hurt and care needed to be taken. It was, after all, his life's work to be aware of Marshall, to anticipate his needs.

Eden leaned carefully over the bed, kissing him lightly and with no pressure on his lips. "I miss your lips," she said softly.

"I miss all the parts of you," he whispered back.

"They're all here, darling, just waiting for all of you to come back to all of them. But they're yours." Her fingers gently pushed back a bit of hair from his forehead. "Always."

"Christmas," he said.

"What?"

"Soon. Christmas."

"Oh, yes, darling. About a week now, I think. I've kind of lost track of which day today is."

He just breathed for a few moments, as though merely being awake took some effort. "Need Martha."

"You need Martha?"

"Yes. Here. Need Martha here." He blew out a long breath, almost visibly gathering himself. "Would you ask her to come see me when she can? I really need to talk to her."

"Of course, darling. I'll speak with her about that when I go back to the inn this evening."

"Good," he said, almost drifting off to sleep but catching himself.

Wadsworth had finally come to the conclusion that Marshall's hand was sufficiently cleansed and now sat quietly by the bed, his big head resting atop the damp palm. He was joined again with the other half of the two-in-one unit that framed his existence. His eyes closed and he relaxed for the first time in days, letting out a long doggy sigh of contentment mingled with relief.

Marshall wiggled one of his fingers under Wadsworth's chin. "I know, boy. I know."

Marshall sighed himself. "I love you," he murmured.

"Wadsworth?"

"You...and Wadsworth.  I've got my eyes on one side and my heart on the other. Don't know what more I could ask."

"You could ask not to be so hurt, so sick."

"It's worth it."

"But...."

"No but's. You're worth it. I couldn't...no way could I let...."

"I know."

A little shudder went through him again at the thought of those men dragging Eden off into the woods. Especially Bart.

She bent near his ear. "Thank you," she whispered. "With all my heart."  She kissed his temple. "You make me feel so protected, so...cherished."

"It's hard," he said, his voice low, serious. "Being blind, you know, it's hard to make a woman feel protected."

"Oh, darling! You risked everything. Let all...this...happen to you. How much more protected can a woman get?"

"I...I...just want...so much...for you. I want...."

"You, Marshall. You, who you are, as you are, that's what I want."

"I just want it to be...enough," he said wearily.

"Enough? Do you have any idea, any at all, of how much more than enough you are?"

And so he quietly told her about Beatrice, about how he hadn't been enough at all, not for her, not after her initial fascination with his blindness had worn off. "So it's left you concerned I might do the same thing? Decide I'm tired of being around you?"

He pressed his lips together, not answering.

"Listen to me, Marshall Sinclair. Not only are you marvelously handsome, which is, actually, neither here nor there in the long run of things, but you are the most wonderful, amazing, intelligent, gifted, all-round glorious human being I've ever met. And you've got the whole thing backwards anyway. I'm the one, you know, I'm the one, me, who's just utterly amazed that you want me. I'm still not sure just how that happened to be. But it does seem to be and the fact of

it makes me the happiest, most blessed woman on the face of the planet. This Beatrice person was a damn fool. There's no other word for it. A damn, damn fool of a woman who didn't
recognize treasure when she had it." She inhaled deeply. "But I'm glad she didn't. Because maybe if she hadn't been such a fool, you wouldn't have come up to the inn and I'd....oh, damn,

I can't even think of not ever meeting you, knowing you, hearing your voice, being...with...you. What I'm trying to say is that you've gone and got yourself stuck with me. You'd better know that right now. You are stuck with me for good."

His closed lips curved into a smile and for the first time that afternoon he opened his eyes, letting her see the bit of moisture sparkling there. "I love you, Eden McLaughlin."

"Back at'cha," she replied, brushing at a stray tear of her own, kissing his ear, his cheek, his nose, and then his chin.

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