THE CAVERN OF DEEP HARMONY

PART SIXTY-SEVEN:

"You're not coming down the stairs?" Connie asked.

"I just came down the stairs," Eden replied.

"But...doesn't the bride come down the stairs, when there are stairs, so she can be seen?"

"I've already been seen," Eden smiled, looking up at Marshall at her side, then back at her cousin.

"Not thoroughly," Marshall whispered in her ear and she giggled.

Martha bustled up, glowing more than the Christmas tree which still stood in a corner of the parlor. "Reverend Powers is here," she announced. "Come let me introduce you."

They followed her into the living room where the pastor was talking with Harold. "Peter," Martha began, "this is our bride and groom, Eden McLaughlin and Dr. Marshall Sinclair."

The pastor turned, his eyes running appraisingly over the couple as he extended his hand. "Eden, Marshall, this is Reverend Peter Powers," Martha continued the introduction.

Eden saw a tall man, at least 6'5", in his early 40's, with short, neatly-waved brown hair streaked with just a bit of grey. Peter shook Eden's hand and then smoothly took Marshall's.

He noticed a slight smile twitching the corners of Eden's mouth. "It's the name, isn't it?"

She nodded without replying and he added, "Sounds like something out of a book or something, doesn't it?" Then he smiled broadly. "And I've even got brothers named Paul and John."

"Are all of you ministers?" Eden asked.

"John is, but Paul's a stand-up comic." He shrugged. "Sort of balances the two of us out somehow."

Marshall found himself liking the friendly, open tone of the man. "We truly appreciate your coming over like this on New Year's Eve, Reverend Powers."

"Peter," the minister corrected pleasantly. "And I love weddings. It's the happiest thing I do."

Martha left the three of them together to discuss some details about the ceremony, going back into her kitchen to check on the platters of hors d'oeuvres she and Elizabeth had made. Smiling to herself, she straightened the parsley stem of a calla lily. Those she made by using a biscuit cutter to form circles from the center of white bread slices. She rolled them flat, spread whipped white cream cheese on them, lay a piece of parsley stem out one side and a thin, pointed strip

of carrot out the other, then pinched it shut at the parsley end. They made perfect, edible calla blossoms and really suited a wedding table.

The cake Joan had made stood grandly on the counter, its chocolate layers and raspberry jam hidden beneath white icing. She didn't know why, but Eden had requested that she make a single, large maple leaf as the topper. Since it was also New Year's Eve, and Eden had left her free to do whatever else she wanted, Joan had made streamers out of peach-colored icing, which trailed their way artfully down the three graduated layers of the cake. It was very pretty, even though to its maker it didn't look all that much like a wedding cake.

Elizabeth was pinning a gardenia on Luke's lapel. "Don't squirm!" she scolded gently. "I don't want to stab you."

"Mike's here," Luke replied, grinning up at the big man standing just behind him, his own gardenia already in place. "He'd save me."

Elizabeth's eyes flickered over to Mike's. She'd known him her entire life and though he'd never spoken of Eden to her, she knew.

Mike saw the awareness in her eyes and sighed imperceptibly. "It's all right," he whispered.

"Is it?" She finished pinning Luke's flower and straightened.

He shrugged just a bit. "As right as it can be anyway. Wasn't meant to be. Simple as that."

"But...walking her in...."

"I know. Can't let her down."

"Have you ever let anybody down, Mike?"

"You could ask my ex-wife that, Bess. I'm sure she'd have an answer for you."

The doorbell rang and Martha hurried past to answer it. Dr. Hersholtz stood there, smiling in the twinkling lights strung around the porch. "I brought Maria with me. Seemed easier to come in one car since we both just got off duty at the hospital," he explained.

Marshall turned at the sound of Hersholtz' voice. "I'm so glad you could come, Doctor," he greeted warmly. "I know New Year's Eve is probably a busy night at the hospital."

"Just as glad not to be on duty, let me tell you," Hersholtz replied earnestly. But he patted his coat. "Got my phone, though. Just hope I don't get called back."

"Maria?"

"Here, Marshall," the dark-haired nurse answered from the doctor's right side.

Marshall held out both hands, saying something to her in Greek, to which she replied in kind then she held out a small package, placing it in one of his hands. "And, yes, I am a Greek bearing gifts," she laughed softly. "So you'd best beware of me tonight."

Mike had come out to the entrance hall in time for this last interchange. He recognized Maria from the hospital, though she looked entirely different with her long hair loose and not dressed in her nurse's pants and loose-fitting top. "Hello, Maria," he greeted. "Mike. From the EMT guys."

"Yes," she smiled. "I've seen you often around the hospital. It's nice to finally meet you in a non-medical situation."

Hersholtz cocked one eyebrow dramatically and squeezed Marshall's forearm. "And you keep

it that way, you hear me!"

Marshall laughed. "I'll most certainly try."

"Well, make it a resolution for the new year, young man. I'm tired of giving you the MFP award, you know."

"MFP?"

"Most Frequent Patient."

Marshall laughed again but Eden wasn't at all sure just how funny she found that.

Everyone greeted everyone, Marshall attempting to keep his hand on Eden's arm in the now-crowded room. Wadsworth sat on the wide bottom step of the staircase, keeping an eye on Marshall.  After his paws had gotten stepped on twice, he'd reluctantly moved at Marshall's urging off to one side. Elizabeth had tried to tuck a gardenia under his collar, but he was having none of it and shook it immediately out.

There was to be nothing formal about this wedding. Eden and Marshall had made that plain from the beginning. There would be music, though not at all what one thought of as wedding music, but it was to be a gathering come together to share in the unrehearsed words that these two people wished to say to one another.  Not even Connie or Edith knew what piece Eden had chosen as her entrance music. The walk was short with little need for something like Pachelbel's Canon in D that was so popular for that purpose nowadays. Martha, who would play it, found the selection interesting, perfect for Eden. And much to Eden's delight, Martha had even agreed to sing it, understanding that the words were as important, or more so, than the music itself.

While everyone else took their places in the parlor, Eden and Mike went together to the living room on the far side of the entrance hall. He kept having to remind himself to breathe. The ivory satin flowed with her as she moved, the most feminine motion he'd ever seen. Her auburn hair, somehow made more glorious in contrast with the ivory, was piled atop her head in loose curls while lots of tendrils waved down her neck. Among the curls gardenias were pinned as Marshall had requested and her bouquet, too, was mostly gardenias with some trailing ivy and a bit of stephanotis. The perfume from the flowers was strong yet elegant. Yes, that was how she looked to him. Elegant. And very, very desirable.

She turned, facing him. "Thank you, Mike," she said softly.

"For walking you in?"

"For everything. You've been the best friend I could possibly have."

Damn! There she went, using the blasted f-word. His nostrils flared and he had to literally bite his tongue to keep from replying that being her friend had nearly crushed his heart.

"And for Marshall, too," she continued. "You mean the world to both of us."

The muscle under his left eye twitched. Couldn't trust his own goddammed body any more.

Wadsworth sat just to the left and slightly rear of where Marshall stood, his back to the fireplace. He kept his nose lightly pressed against the outside of Marshall's leg. Marshall was very aware of its presence there. It was only right. Wadsworth was serving in the capacity of Best Dog. Just beyond him stood young Luke, his right hand curled tightly over the two rings

in his pocket. Marshall had given them to him moments before. Luke didn't know when in his whole six years of life he'd ever been trusted with something that important. He was sweating

a bit from the gravity of his charge and from being so close to the fireplace. His thick lenses

were fogging and as he looked up at Marshall, it seemed he saw him through a gathering mist. He knew he needed to wipe his glasses, but that would require his letting go of the rings and there was no way he would do that.

Peter Powers stood, composed and quiet, just to Marshall's right, curious himself as to how

this particular ceremony would unfold. He really had little to do tonight other than to make some short opening remarks, say a prayer, and pronounce them husband and wife. He loved

that last part. There was this moment out of all time where a man and a woman were not married, then he said the words and everything changed for them. One second they were not and the next they were.  As many weddings as he'd performed, he always treasured that moment, always regarded it with the awe which it deserved.  He smiled to himself and glanced over where Martha was seated at the piano. There was something entirely intimate about the
way these people were gathered in this room. There was a warmth present, not just from the fireplace or the lights of the tree and the many candles placed about, but more from the good will of those present, from the fact that the old year was ending here with this ceremony, with this couple who had already been through so much, had come out the other side of it all and were going together into a new season.

Connie was not going to be walking in as matron of honor, but had already taken her place. Ryan, seated on the arm of the couch, studied the play of firelight on her peach-colored gown. She smiled at him, aware of his gaze. Edith, too, was aware.

At the first note of the music, Mike gathered everything he had within him, leaned down and kissed Eden's forehead. "You have my blessing," he said, his voice barely audible.  And she did. He wanted the best for her. He had from the beginning. He just had to come to terms that that was not him. So he held his left arm out and she slid hers through it.

"Mike," she whispered, "you are the best."

Her gaze then turned raptly toward the entrance hall they would cross and then onward into the parlor.  He followed her line of vision and made a huge, unseen effort, untying the ropes he'd stretched weeks ago from his heart towards hers. She needed to be free of them even though she
didn't know they were there.  Perhaps some day he would be someone else's best, but he was not hers.

He smiled down at her. "Ready?" he asked.

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