THE CAVERN OF DEEP HARMONY

PART FORTY-SIX:

"Suede patches."

"What?"

"Please. Suede patches for Christmas Eve dinner."

Marshall smiled. "You really want me to?"

"I really do, umm hmm."

"I could wear the one with the shoulder suede, too."

"Ooo, yes! Wear that!"

"You want me to look...literary?"

"Yep. You don't have a pipe, do you?"

He shook his head. "And Wadsworth won't pass as a hunting hound, either, I'm afraid."

As she slipped on an emerald green silk blouse and a long black skirt with almost a cummerbund effect at the waist, he ran his hand down the line of his jackets till he felt the suede shoulder patch. "Cravat or tie?" he asked.

"You have a cravat?"

"I think there's one here somewhere. But that might be a bit much, don't you think?"

She pondered it seriously, not at all sure it would be too much. "It IS Christmas Eve."

"In Pennsylvania, not Devonshire."

"Still...."

"I will if you'd like."

"Let me see the jacket first."

He held it out on its hanger, a deeply burnished rust-colored tweed with matching solid suede patches. "I like it!" she approved.

Opening a drawer, he fished for the cravat. It was a dark rust-color, too. "Oh, my," she said. "Will you humor me and try it on?"

He took the clothes into the bathroom. "Not for modesty," he grinned, "but so you'll get the full effect and not piece by piece."

She brushed her hair, put on a two-strand gold chain and matching dangly earrings. She got such pleasure out of looking at him, it was hard for her not to wish he could see her. It was definitely perplexing. How did a sighted person share such things as their own enjoyment of something as simple as the way somebody looked in a special outfit?  How did you get past wanting your beloved to see you?

Then the bathroom door opened and he came back into the bedroom, looking for all the world

as if he'd just stepped out of a movie. He was that handsome. He was always handsome to her, but the clothes simply accentuated it. Soft rust-colored slacks and a silk handkerchief in his breast pocket completed the total coordination of what he wore. And he had the cravat on, a small gold stickpin in the center. She didn't say a word and a worried expression crossed his face. "Not right?"

Coming to him, she touched his cheek. "So right it's taken my breath away."

"Tell me about you. What color?" His fingers found the collar of her blouse.

"Emerald green," she supplied, "like the scent of the Christmas tree."

"I like that." 

His fingers moved down the front of her blouse, trailing over each covered button, finding her cummerbund where his hand spread out, sliding around her waist, then down her hip, delicately touching the draping folds of her skirt.  She inhaled a short, sharp breath. Perhaps his way of seeing her wasn't so bad after all. "Don't stop looking," she whispered, and his hand moved up, curving over the silky mound of her breast. He left it there, letting his hand rise and fall with her breathing. "This isn't very conducive to going down to dinner," she murmured.

"I know," he agreed, his lips finding her neck.

"You two ready in there?"  Connie's voice came through their door.

"Are you ready?" Marshall whispered in her ear.

"Oh, God. I am SO ready," she moaned, her fingertips curving into the tweed of his sleeve.

Then she sighed hugely. "Coming, Con!" she called out.

Marshall slipped his arm around her waist and they went to the door. "You know you...," Connie began, but her voice trailed off as she looked at them. Eden's eyes met hers, an understanding gaze passing between them.

Edith, standing slightly to one side, smiled broadly. "Good evening, Marshall. I'm so pleased to be sharing Christmas Eve dinner with you."

"Thank you, Edith. I'm looking forward to it."

As they entered the dining room, Eden made sure to steer him around the newly-set-up card tables and the larger space the main table now occupied with all its leaves inserted. Harold had a nice fire going with evergreens, pinecones, and bayberry candles along the mantel. So many aromas flowed out of the kitchen it was hard to identify them individually. They mixed and mingled in a delightful potpourri of dinner smells.

Harold introduced them to Stuart and his wife, Joan, and their grown children. Three of Elizabeth's brothers were there with their wives, their children vying for places at the card tables, which had their own tablecloths and small centerpieces. Martha directed Marshall to

a seat, with Eden on his right, then Edith and Connie past her.

A small voice sounded just to Marshall's left. "Hello again."

"Luke?"

"Yep, it's me."

"He asked to sit by you," Martha volunteered softly. "Is that all right?"

"It's wonderful, Martha."

"See, I told you he wouldn't mind," Luke crowed. "I told them your eyes were broken and mine were a little broken so we needed to stick together."

"You are very right," Marshall nodded. "I'm glad you thought of that tonight."

"How do you eat with broken eyes?"

"Well, Luke, it's the only way I know to eat, but I understand it's supposed to be easier to know where your food and your glasses are with that thing called 'seeing'. When I make my meal myself, I know where I've put things, but times like now I don't know where things are until my hands find them or someone tells me."

"Can I tell?"

"Sure, if you like. Do you know how to tell time?"

"Yep, but what's that got to do with finding food?"

"If my plate is a pretend clock face, and someone tells me my peas are at 3 and my potatoes are at 5, then I know where to find them."

"Oh! I like that! But you don't have any food on your plate yet. Uncle Ryan's not here. Your water's about, um, 2, I guess. Does that help?"

"It helps a lot, Luke."

Just then there was a stir and two men in their early 40's entered the dining room. "I stopped

by the cabin and hauled Mike out," Ryan said, his dynamic presence rather charging the room. Both Connie and Edith had heard about all the help Mike had been, and turned to look at the
newcomers. Eden looked, too, glad that Mike had come. She hadn't seen him since the day Marshall left ICU.

Ryan was running one hand through his slightly wavy light brown hair. "Hat hair," he chuckled. He had an Australian bush hat, one side of the brim curved way up, that he wore almost everywhere and had just hung it on the rack by the front door. He was tall, lean,

with something almost cowboyish about him. Perhaps it was the rather weathered look

to his face, as though he spent a lot of time outdoors. Even in winter he was tan, which just

served to emphasize the light blue-greyness of his eyes.

"You always have hat hair," Elizabeth laughed. He reached out mussing her hair just a bit.

"Now we match."

"Fiend!" she chortled.

"C'mon, Michael," Ryan urged. Mike was hanging back a bit by the doorway, his eyes wary, trying not to linger on Eden. Two women he didn't know were just to her right, so he let his

gaze settle on them.

"Mike," Martha said, "take the seat by Connie. She's Eden's cousin from Pittsburgh. Connie, this is Mike. Ryan, that leaves one chair over here, son." She indicated a chair across the table from Edith.

"I'm glad you came, Mike," Eden said. He dipped his head and smiled with his lips closed as he took his seat. He'd seen her crossing the parking lot of the hospital with Wadsworth a couple of times, but had never made her aware of his presence. She looked marvelous this evening, that shiny deep green setting off her dark red hair.

Pulling his eyes away from her, he focused on Connie. "So you're the one who found the inn for Eden?"

"Pretty easy for me," she smiled. "Comes right along with my job."

"Your job?"

"Travel agent. So I have access to information about all the nicest places to stay."

Ryan's ears perked up. "You're an agent?"

"Umm hmm, for quite a few years now."

"Ryan's a travel agent, too, Connie," Martha explained.

"Where?"

"Cleveland."

"Cleveland?"

"I know, I know. It's just temporary. I have a good friend who owns an agency there. Kinda helping him get it up and running."  He looked across the table at her, his eyes sparkling and full of life. "Ever been to Fiji?"

"Myself?"  He nodded. "Well, I must admit I plan lots of trips for other people, but haven't really taken all that many myself."

"Would you like to go to Fiji?"

"You askin' me?" she chuckled.

Ryan cocked his head. "Might not be such a bad idea."

From then on for the rest of the dinner, the two of them went back and forth, totally absorbed

in travel talk, places seen, places yet unseen, the art of planning a long trip for someone. Connie barely glanced at Mike, who once in a while quietly stole a brief look past Connie and Edith to see what Eden was doing.  Martha sighed.  So much for the best laid plans of mice and innkeepers.

Luke delighted in the clock concept of Marshall's plate, keeping him fully informed throughout the meal. Eden was enjoying Marshall's pleasure in the attempts of the serious little boy to guide him while he ate. Her head was more often than not turned to her left so she could observe the interaction between the two of them. Martha, at the end of the table, tried to make conversation with Mike.

"You thought of getting a new dog?" she asked, knowing how much he'd loved old Maizie.

"I do think of it from time to time, Martha," he admitted, "but I'm gone so much right now, it would be hard to manage a puppy."

"Company could be nice, though," she added.

Involuntarily, his eyes darted quickly to his left, then back to Martha. "Could be," he whispered.

Marshall ate quietly for the most part, surrounded by a sea of detached voices, a great deal of them new to him. Once in a while, he felt Eden rest her left hand on his thigh and he'd put down his fork, letting his own hand lie atop hers. There was a general warmth in the room, that sort
of warmth that comes when a large family is reunited and everyone is catching up on all the news, happy to be together, laughing at all the familiar things families share through the long years. He liked the hubbub of it, though it was rather new for him, his own family having been
just him, his brother, and his parents. Many conversations were going at once and it was a bit hard to sort them out, but he was aware of Connie's animated chatting with Ryan. After a while, he leaned forward, turning his head to the right. He hadn't heard Mike's voice for some time now during the meal. "Mike," he said, to attract his attention. It was hard because he never knew if someone were looking at him or otherwise engaged.

"Merry Christmas, Marshall," Mike responded.

"I haven't gotten to speak with you since, well, since....  And I wanted to let you know how grateful I am that you stayed with Eden there in the woods and how you watched over Wadsworth for me. I've been hoping you'd come by the inn so I could tell you how much I appreciate your friendship and your kindness."

"She was one determined little lady," Mike replied. "Was going to go up that ridge by herself if nobody'd go with her. Did you hear how she pushed Barry?"

"Eden pushed somebody?"

"Yeah...one of the deputies. He tried to stop her from going up the slope from the place where you'd come out of the stream. She pushed him flat and headed off."  He smiled to himself, remembering.

"You did that?" Marshall asked her.

"Do it again, too," she chuckled. "No way the law's comin' between me and my man. No way!"

Mike managed to keep a pleasant smile on his face. Even though he knew Marshall couldn't see it, others were watching, Eden was watching. "Like a Sherman tank," he added, "there was no stopping her."

"I wish I'd known," Marshall said softly, rubbing his thumb up and down the handle of his fork. "At the time, I wish I'd known. After what they did there at the stream by the bridge, making tracks the wrong way, I thought everybody would be looking downstream. I thought no one would come where I was."

Eden curved her hand over his on his fork. "Wadsworth knew, and I believed him. Love is stronger than evidence."

Marshall leaned close to her. "I love you so much," he murmured.

Mike carefully, intently, lifted a heaping fork full of mashed potatoes to his lips.

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