THE CAVERN OF DEEP HARMONY

PART FORTY-TWO:

Marshall spent the next four days in room 303.  Eden brought Wadsworth with her whenever she came to visit, which was several hours every day. Though Wadsworth never really liked having to leave Marshall's room in the evening, he became rather reconciled to it since Eden always brought him back to Marshall the next morning. Whenever they were at the inn, he stayed close to her as she was his link to his other half. The two of them were developing a nice relationship of their own, founded on their mutual love for the same person.

Martha spent a lot more time on the phone than usual and also went into town more often. Christmas was coming and no one thought anything of Martha's activities. She hummed a lot and baked whenever she could. Harold kept the fireplaces going, and had even begun taking Wadsworth out for walks when Eden was busy. Eden was on her laptop and cell phone a lot, going back and forth with Connie.

Harold's brother, Stuart, had a huge old farmhouse about four miles further around the lake,

a big barn of a place with more bedrooms than could be kept track of. Most of Harold and Martha's kids and their families stayed at Stuart's when they came home for Christmas
because the inn was, well, an inn and needed to be available for guests. Christmas for the Malone's was rather a moveable feast in the truest sense as bounteous meals were served at both Stuart's and Harold's, with the family going back and forth between. Stuart's wife, Joan, loved cooking nearly as much as Martha did, and between them, with the help of grown daughters, bellies were always full.

This year, because there was room, Martha's daughter, Elizabeth was going to be staying at the inn for the holidays, her husband, Dale, and her 6 year old son, Luke, with her. Martha's four sons were all staying at Stuart's. Three of them were married and had their families along. Together with Stuart's three kids and their families, the Malones were quite a crowd.

Martha loved Christmas. It was the only time the widely-scattered family gathered these days all at the same time. She liked to decorate the inn early and thoroughly. Wreaths hung at every window and Harold had outlined all the trim of the house and several small trees in white lights...lots of white lights.  In the parlor a nine-foot fir graced a corner, decorated with Eden's assistance, in a thick layer of Victorian ornaments, a large angel with a deep rose-colored velvet gown on its top branch. The banisters on the stairs and along the front porch were hung with draped evergreen garlands. Christmas treasures, fragile and antique, were set on the mantels and tabletops among still more boughs of evergreen.  Yet, except for the addition of the large tree in the parlor corner, Martha made sure that every piece of furniture remained where it

had been. Marshall would be coming home before Christmas. She smiled at the thought, checking her supply of peanut butter for cookies.

Three days before Christmas, he was released from the hospital. About 10 that morning, Eden arrived on the third floor with Wadsworth. As she started down the hallway from the elevators, she thought of her first time here when Mike had come along to show her the way. She hadn't seen him since.  She'd tried to call the cabin two or three times, but either he wasn't home or wasn't answering.

Dr. Hersholtz was making rounds and when he saw her, motioned her aside into a small alcove where there were two chairs. "I wanted to speak with you about Marshall before you left today," he said, indicating she should have a seat.

"It's all right for him to be leaving the hospital, isn't it?"

Hersholtz took the other chair, actually giving Wadsworth a small pat. "He should do fine. I mainly want you to be sure he doesn't try to overdo anything for a while. It's easy to get caught up in the holidays, I know, but he's got to get sufficient rest and plenty of sleep and that's not always that easy to do at the inn this time of year. So he needs someone who's watching out for him in the midst of activity. I think, truly, it would be a good idea if he spent a lot of time in his bedroom. He may think he's up for more than he's really able to handle, but his body is still just recovering from major insult both internally and externally.  That little stroll he had in the forest was, for him, just as though he'd been attacked and beaten to a pulp. And he's had two concussions within a month and a half of each other and both in the same general area of the head." He paused, shaking his own head. "That sort of thing is cumulative and we don't want

a third."

"I understand, Doctor," she replied. "I'll make sure he doesn't push himself."

"It takes a good while to get strength and energy back after a severe bout of pneumonia. That

in itself requires a lot of rest. I thought about keeping him here until after Christmas but he was adamant on wanting to go back to the inn. You call me if you think anything's not right, ok?"

She promised, then rose to go on her way to 303. Wadsworth was doing his trembly thing, seeming to be aware something different was up. When she opened the door, Marshall was dressed in the slacks and shirt she'd brought the evening before, and sitting in the chair by the
window. He looked better somehow just by being in his regular clothes and some tension that had been growing in her after listening to Hersholtz began to relax.

"You ready to blow this popsicle stand, mister?" she asked in as throaty a voice as she could manage.

"And here all along I thought it was a gin joint."

"That was in Morocco, I believe."

"Will we always have Paris?" he asked Bogartishly.

She kissed him lightly. "We will if you take me there."

He smiled widely. "Left bank or right?"

"Probably the left I should think. Isn't that where the authors are supposed to hang out?"

"Left it is, then. And I...."

But he was interrupted by the arrival of Ray, pushing an empty wheelchair.  He parked the chair close to Marshall and waited while Wadsworth inspected it. "I almost brought his harness," Eden said, "but then I remembered they never let you walk out of hospitals on your own two feet."

"Nope," Ray joined in. "We don't go in for that foot stuff around here. It's wheels all the way."

Ray guided Marshall into the chair and Eden, watching carefully, saw a quickly-suppressed glimmer of pain flash across his features. The nurse adjusted the footrests and with Eden holding the leash and Marshall's small tote bag, they left 303 behind. Harold had pulled his car close to the hospital entrance, and with Ray's hand on his elbow, Marshall walked the 3 or 4 steps to its open rear door.  Wadsworth jumped in beside him, immediately laying his head on Marshall's lap, letting out a loud sigh of content. It was the first time he'd been able to get that close in way too long.

Eden, holding onto the door, looked in at them affectionately. "You got him this time, Waddy," she grinned, "but just you wait." She closed the door and slid into the front passenger seat.

The Morning Glory Inn faced the lake and guests usually followed the walk around to the front door. The plan for today, though, was that Marshall would come in the back way as it was closer. Though Harold parked his car in the space nearest the back of the house, it was still a good 40 paces to the house, then 8 steps up to the door itself. It had snowed again in the night and this morning Harold had carefully shoveled the walk and the steps. Eden went around, opening the rear door for Marshall. "It's pretty far," she sighed.

"I'll be fine," he said, straightening himself slowly beside the car. Just that movement of standing erect strained him in several places, but he pressed his lips together and curved them into a determined smile.  He walked slowly, his left arm draped around Eden's shoulders
as both a guide and a bit of support.  When they reached the bottom of the stairs, he paused, gripping the railing tightly. "Give me just a sec," he breathed. He hadn't had to climb stairs yet in his recovery.

Eden and Harold exchanged concerned glances. "I'll be right behind you, son," Harold said, laying his hand on Marshall's shoulder.

Marshall had to go up the stairs by putting both feet on each step. His right knee just wasn't ready to bear his full weight in a normal ascent. He hadn't really realized the effort this simple task would involve for him. About two steps from the top, he stopped completely and swayed slightly, feeling like he was going to fall.

"MARTHA!" Harold yelled.

The steps led into the kitchen and when Martha heard Harold, she quickly opened the door, letting out a flow of warm air redolent with raisins and cinnamon and brown sugar that impacted Marshall almost physically. He gathered himself together, managed a bit of a

crooked smile and said, "Hullo, Martha. I'm back."

"I see that, Marshall," she clucked, her brow knit as she observed his face. "And you look like you're at the end of your rope in the doing of it."

He nodded. "Think I need to sit down."

Harold, at this point, actually had his hands on Marshall's back, supporting him, and was basically all that was keeping him from toppling backwards down the steps. Martha reached out, taking his left hand, tugging just enough to get him to go forward and somehow, all in
a clump, the three of them managed to get him through the big kitchen and around the corner

to the parlor and down onto the couch. All the color had drained from his face and his breaths were coming in short little gasps. His head seemed too heavy for his neck and he let it rest against the high back of the couch. "Made it," he sighed.

"You sure di...," Martha began, but his head had turned to the side. "Marshall?"

"He go to sleep already or did he pass out?" Harold asked, peering at him.

"I can't tell," Martha replied, her brow knitting even more deeply. "Here, help me get him turned."  As Harold lifted Marshall's legs, Eden and Martha gently settled him on the couch

so he was lying down. Eden tucked a pillow under his head and Martha spread a quilt over
him. Marshall lay quietly for the next hour while Harold brought more wood for the fire and

the two women looked at the long flight of steps up to the second floor and then at each other.

"If he needs to," Martha said, "he can just spend the night right where he is."

Eden pulled a footstool up close to the couch, smoothing his hair back in that way he liked. He might not be aware she was doing it, but she was and it made her feel somehow comforted to

do it.  "I still can't get my mind around everything he went through, Martha, what it must've been like for him up there."

"He loves you, Eden. That's what got him through."

"Oh, Martha," she whispered, her cheeks suddenly wet, "I love this man so much it...hurts."

His lips moved. "Love you...too," he murmured, his hand groping to find hers. "Always."

"Are you all right?"

"Fine. Just...tired. That's all. Just tired."  He drifted off again, still holding her hand.

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