THE CAVERN OF DEEP HARMONY

PART FORTY-FOUR:

Marshall had spent most of the afternoon in bed, just cuddling with Eden, talking softly. Martha showed up at the door with a big tray at suppertime, bearing enough food for both of them. They ate slowly, enjoying the simplicity of being together, music playing softly in the background. He took his evening meds, finally changed into his pajamas, and they lay together again, nuzzling as much as he was able. He fell asleep about 9 and Eden sat in the chair for a while, IMing Connie, making sure of last minute details.

Morning broke on a day that was warm for north central Pennsylvania in late December. Martha was glad because it was the day Elizabeth and her family were arriving for the holidays. It was always easier to think of them on the road when it wasn't snowing.

Marshall and Eden came down for breakfast. He still had to take the steps one at a time, but he was determined to be out and about. In fact, since it was so warm, in the upper 50's at least, he decided to venture forth on a walk down to the dock. Martha rolled her eyes and shook her head for Eden's benefit. Since his leather jacket had not really survived his trek out of the forest, he was wearing the navy blue one he'd worn home from the hospital. Though it was thick cloth,
it was similar in form to his leather one, as he liked the longer, belted jackets. Martha insisted he wear a sweater under it, not taking no for an answer, absolutely firm in her motherly way that he not get chilled. He was not a hat sort of person, but she reached up and popped one of Harold's hunting caps on his head. He indulged her with a slight grin.

Wadsworth loose, but staying nearby of his own choice, Marshall went down the walk with Eden's arm through his. "It's foggy," he said, lifting his chin.

It was, indeed, the soggy ground and the thin patches of snow sending up moisture into the warm air. Despite the splint, he held his right hand out, spreading his fingers, turning the hand slowly, feeling the fog.

They walked down to the end of the dock and stood silently a while, arm in arm. No boats were out and the Canada geese had finished their migration. The lake was quiet but for the rhythmic lap lapping of itself against the pilings of the dock and some rocks along the shoreline. Eden closed her eyes, trying to enter his world. In the darkness, the stillness was even more profound, and the tiniest break in it came clearly to her ears. The mist became tangible, touching her cheeks with its foggy veils. She listened to his breathing at her side, really listened. It sounded different somehow than it had when she had lain beside him on the bed.

Opening her eyes, she looked up at him. His lips were parted and he seemed to be working harder at what he was doing. "Marshall? Are you all right?"

"Fine, darling. I think it's a bit further out here than I remembered. I'd sit but there's no place around here for that."

He was right. All the outdoor furniture had been stored away for the winter. She sized up the distance back to the house, frowning. "Can you make it to the inn?"

"Sure. No problem. Think I'd better take it fairly slow, though."  He hated the sudden weakness that had washed over him, had wanted to prolong his time there at the end of the dock with Eden. But he needed a chair, dammit, he really needed a chair.

They walked slowly, pausing now and then, but he made it ok to the inn and up the steps to the porch. Eden opened the door and walked with him to the parlor, where he settled on the couch. "Would hot tea be good?" she asked, and he nodded.

 
She'd heard a car arrive while they'd been on the way back up the walk, the sound of voices greeting happily behind the house. Elizabeth must be here. In the kitchen she found Martha

and Elizabeth talking while Dale investigated what Martha had been cooking. Six-year-old

Luke slipped unnoticed into the main part of the house.

Luke, a serious little boy with straight dark brown hair and large brown eyes framed in rather owlish glasses, went into the parlor to look at his grandmother's Christmas tree.

Eden had left Marshall sitting on the couch, but he had decided he really rather lie down, so slipped off his shoes and was full-length on the couch, his eyes closed and was taking long breaths in through his nose and letting them out his mouth with a soft, little 'aaaah' sort of sound.  Luke forgot about the tree and came, standing just the other side of the coffee table,

his kneecaps pressed against it.

"You dyin', Mister?"

"Wha...?" Marshall was startled. He thought he was alone in the room.

"You dyin'?" the boy repeated.

The voice was very young, probably belonging to Martha's grandson.  Marshall sucked in one last, long breath. "Not today."

"I heard Granny talkin' to my Mom. She said you almost died twice since you been stayin' here."

"Well, that is true."

"So I thought maybe you was dyin' again. You sure look like you're dyin'."

"That bad, eh?"

"Never saw anybody dyin' before."

Marshall chuckled. "Well, you're not seeing one now, either."  He swung his legs off the couch, still letting the high back of it support his head as his weariness still hung heavily on him. He forgot to open his eyes.

"You the man whose eyes are broken?"

"Interesting way of putting it. Well, I've never thought of it quite in that way. But, yes, I'd be that fellow, most likely."

"My eyes are a little broken," Luke said softly.

"A little?"

Luke came around the coffee table and sat down on it. He took off his thick glasses and held them out so they touched Marshall's left hand. "I have to wear these."

Marshall ran his fingers around the glasses, careful not to smudge the lenses. "These seem to be big, important glasses."

Luke smiled. "And I never thought of them quite in that way."

Eden had started back into the parlor just as Luke began to talk to Marshall. Martha and Elizabeth were right behind her. All three women stopped, taken by the rather strange conversation.

"The only glasses I have are very dark glasses."

"How come? Where are your regular ones?"

"Regular ones can't help me, Luke. It is Luke, right? Not like yours can help you.

Luke had put his back on, settling them carefully, peering through them at the man who was sitting on the couch. "I never met anybody whose eyes were worse than mine."  He stared at Marshall, fascinated. "If I close my eyes, can you see me then?"

"Doesn't work that way, Luke. My eyes never see, no matter what you do with yours." He'd remembered and opened his eyes a few moments ago.

"How long have they been broken?"

"Always."

"Always?"

"Umm hmm."

"Even when you were little like me?"

"Even then, yes."

Luke had to think about this. This was a new concept for him.  "Don't you miss seeing?"

"Luke, I don't even know what seeing is."

Now this was really strange and new. "How can you not know that? Everybody knows what seeing is."

"Not if you've never seen anything. Then you don't."  He had become aware of the presence of the women in the doorway behind him, but didn't acknowledge it...not yet. He didn't want to interrupt Luke's train of thought.

"So you're what they call 'blind'?"

"I am.'

"What is blind? Can you tell me what it is?"

"No, I can't, Luke," Marshall said frankly. "I know it's the absence of seeing, but since I don't know what seeing is, how can I know what the absence of it is?"

Eden shook her head. She understood something for the first time.

"You don't miss it?"

"No, Luke, I don't miss it. I have what I have. It's enough. Really it is."

"What about him?" He pointed at Wadsworth, who was sitting near the window, watching proceedings with a cocked head.

"Him? You mean the dog?"

"Yeah, that's what I'm pointing at."

"But I can't see that, Luke, remember?"

"It's hard to remember that."

"That's Wadsworth. He's my eyes."

"You have kinda greenish eyes and his are brown. How can his eyes be your eyes?"

"His eyes aren't, um, 'broken' so he sees with his own eyes and then he lets me know where to walk so I don't run into things."

When Eden had first gone into the kitchen and been introduced to Elizabeth and Dale, she'd asked Martha about the tea, explaining how weak Marshall had suddenly felt down on the dock. Martha already had some water boiling, and quickly made tea, putting a thick slice of homemade pound cake on a small plate as well. Elizabeth and Martha talked almost daily, so Elizabeth was well aware of Marshall and most of the circumstances surrounding his stay at the inn.

"Luke," his mother said firmly, stepping into the room, "it might be a good idea to let Dr. Sinclair get a little rest right now, all right?"

"Are you really a doctor?"

"A teacher-kind of doctor, not a giving-shots kind."

"Luke."  Elizabeth was a younger, female version of Harold, tall and very lean, but with her mother's friendly eyes.

"Ok, Mom."  Luke got up from the coffee table and went to look at the tree.

"I'm sorry, Dr. Sinclair," Elizabeth said, coming closer as Eden sat the tray for Marshall on the coffee table.

"Marshall, please. And don't be concerned about Luke. I enjoyed our little chat." He sniffed. "Pound cake?"

"Two o'clock.  Tea's hot, more to your left, about nine," Eden said softly.

"Luke, are you still here?"

"By the tree."

"Tell me what it's like."

Luke turned back to the tree, studying it seriously. "It's tall. Almost up to the ceiling. Has Granny's angel on it, up on top. Lots of ornaments. Can hardly see the green.  Lots of sparkly things." He looked at Marshall appraisingly. "You know sparkly?"

"Like when you get handed a glass of Coke or something and it's just been poured and you hold it close to your face and the little bubbly-things tickle your nose?"

Luke smiled really big. "Yeah, like that."  He looked at his mother. "Marshall knows sparkly." He turned his eyes back to the man on the couch. "Marshall can't see the tree, but he knows sparkly...and it's enough." 

Marshall smiled. He liked young Luke...a lot.

"Come on, Luke," Elizabeth said. "Let's get settled in, then we'll drive over to Stuart's.  I bet your uncles will be arriving there shortly."

When it was just the two of them, Eden sat beside Marshall on the couch, drinking her own cup of tea. "You feeling better now?"

"Tea and pound cake...much better than medicine."

They went up to their room and he rested a while, falling deeply asleep for a half hour, which he'd not meant to do. He woke to the scent of evergreen and thought for a minute he was in the parlor. "Eden?"

"I'm here, darling. I have something for you...for us."

He sat up. "Evergreens?"

"A tree. Just a little one about a yard tall, but it's a Christmas tree, our Christmas tree."

He walked toward the scent of roses and pine and she took his outstretched hand, guiding it to the little tree. He ran his hands over it. "It's not decorated, just has lights."

"That's because we're going to do it, you and I."

He smiled. "I haven't put an ornament on a tree since...."

"Well, you are now."  And she put a golden glass ball in his hand.  "It's colored like the sun," she said, so he'd know.

He turned it, finding the hanger, and feeling carefully with both hands, hung it on a branch mid-way down. "Ok?"

"Perfect," she said. "Now here's a green one, like freshly-mown grass."

"You remember."

"It was important."

"Is there a red one?" he asked.

"Yes, with two green stripes."

"You hang that one. This should be a joint effort. Our first Christmas tree."

But as she reached out, his hands found hers, cupping above them, following along so that they hung the red one with two green stripes...together.

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