Death of an Adept

"Just keep reminding yourself that there will be an end to it all," Adam said gently, well aware of the double meaning in his words.

Ximena swallowed audibly, not lifting her head.

"Adam," she said in a small voice, "you see a lot farther than most people. Do you know how much time my father has left?"

The question was accompanied by a searching look that Adam chose not to meet.

"That's crediting me with an omniscience I don't possess," he replied.

"It isn't long now, is it?" she persisted.

Adam could recall only too vividly Lockhart's brief exchange with the Master.

"No," he acknowledged. "A matter of days, I would guess. No more."

Ximena lowered her eyes. "I'm glad," she murmured - then shivered as if chilled by her own words. "Is it wrong of me to want it over and done with?"

Adam gathered her hands in his. "No," he told her gently. "I'd say it was only natural."

Lost in her own thoughts, Ximena hardly seemed to hear him.

"I feel as if I've been saying goodbye to him for months," she continued bleakly. "This whole city is full of memories from my childhood. Everywhere I go, I find myself thinking, This is where Dad used to buy us ice cream, or This is where we used to come for picnics, or This is where he used to take my brothers and me on Saturday afternoons. It's hard to think of all that coming to an end."

"Then perhaps it would be better to start thinking of it as a beginning," Adam said quietly. "We are made for eternity," he went on. "There are no limits to what we can aspire to become - only limits to how much we're able to see at any given time. The caterpillar enters the chrysalis knowing nothing about what it's like to have wings, but during that entombment it becomes transformed into a creature of flight.

"Everything we experience in this lifetime helps to prepare us for transformations yet to come," he continued. "And if we make a conscious effort to prepare ourselves well, the approach to death brings with it a shift in perspective that enables us to catch glimpses of the wonders that lie ahead. Saint Paul put it rather well. He said: 'For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face. Now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known."

Ximena eyed him quizzically. "Anyone listening to you would think you'd made this journey often enough to be familiar with the route. But then, I suppose you've done enough counselling in this area to make you an expert by association."

Adam thought it wisest not to comment, for there were still untold truths about himself that Ximena was not yet ready to hear, especially not now.

"Bereavement counselling does give one a somewhat different perspective on life," he allowed. "But that makes it no less true that your father's death is part of your own life's experience. He would want you to use it to good purpose - not as a source of grief, but as a foundation for new hope."

Ximena sighed as if suddenly weary, slipping her arms around Adam's waist to rest her head against his chest.

"I can see that you believe what you're saying," she whispered. "Just stay close by my side, and see me through to the end."

"You know I will, my darling," he murmured, tenderly stroking her hair.

Chapter Thirteen

MID-MORNING of Christmas Eve saw all members of the wedding party engaged in last-minute arrangements save for the bride, who was on duty until six in the Emergency Room. The two mothers had met over breakfast in the hospital dining room, and had now retired to a couch in the lobby, where they were happily engaged in ticking off items on a final list of things to be done. Most of the tasks had been assigned.

Austen Lockhart had already collected the flowers. The boxes were stacked outside Alan Lockhart's room, waiting for the ministrations of his womenfolk, and Laurel had been dispatched to fetch several family heirlooms to be used in transforming Lockhart's room into a wedding chapel. The Lockharts' younger son, Vance, had arrived from Honolulu late the night before, completing the Lockhart family circle, and would collect the wedding cake and champagne before noon.

Adam, for his part, had little to do besides show up at the appointed time, once he had seen the two mothers ensconced, so he made it his morning's task to see to the comfort of his bride's father. As he joined Dr. Saloa for his morning visit to Lockhart's bedside, it became immediately apparent that Lock-hart's pain was breaking through.

"I'd like you to get some sleep, Alan," Saloa said, after noting that Lockhart had spent a restless night and declined his morning medication. "Will you please let me order you a sedative? Just to hold you through the afternoon."

Lockhart slowly shook his head on the pillow, the effort obviously costing him considerably.