What promise have you left unfulfilled? the Master inquired.
Lockhart's face took on a sad, wistful expression as he lowered his gaze.
"When my daughter was eight, I promised that on her wedding day I would place her hand in that of her chosen beloved," he said softly. "She - tells me she loves the man who stands beside me, and he has vowed that he loves her." Lock-hart lifted his gaze boldly to the Master's. "If this match is not meant to be, then I have no wish to precipitate an action that will make them both unhappy, merely to satisfy a dying man's last wish. But if he is prepared to cherish her as I have done, then I - would see them wed before I die. Do I ask too much?"
"I think he does not," Adam interposed quietly, "for I have some inkling of the love that lies between Alan Lockhart and his daughter - and of its reflection, in the love that she and I share."
His body is spent, the Master replied, turning his gaze on Adam. Would you condemn him to further suffering?
"It is he who chooses thus," Adam replied, "and only out of love. For my own part, I have already undertaken to unburden him of such suffering, insofar as I am able, so that the time remaining to him will be no heavy penance. If Alan is determined to honor his promise, despite the cost in pain, is this so great a favor to ask, from so good and faithful a servant?"
The Master's stern gaze softened, the majestic head inclining slightly.
You plead eloquently, Master Healer. Very well, so be it.
Then his attention returned to Lockhart. Your daughter's intended spouse is well worthy of her. Go now in peace, Alan Lockhart, and may that peace abide with you until vou come to claim the place which has long been prepared for you.
Lockhart closed his eyes and bowed his head in reverent acceptance of this decree. As he did so, the temple and its environs dissolved in a ripple of light. Adam experienced a familiar moment of disorientation as his spirit and Lockhart's were left momentarily adrift.
Then his mind's eye sought and found the twin silver cords that were their lifelines, and he drew a deep breath as, still in trance, he opened his eyes and gently laid a hand on Lockhart's shoulder.
"Alan, it's time to begin settling back into your body now," he said aloud. "I'm here with you. When you wake, your conscious mind will not remember what has passed here, but your inner self will retain full knowledge of the revelations you have gained, and give you guidance in the times to come. Come back when you're ready, feeling comfortable and at peace, free from care and pain. That peace and comfort will remain with you from this moment onward, until you loose the silver cord and set out on the journey Home."
Closing his eyes again, Adam drew the other soul with him along the silver cords. Together they passed through the gateway that stood between the Inner Planes and the outer world. The transition marked the end of their directly experienced rapport, but Adam slid his hand down to Lockhart's wrist and remained lightly in contact, feeling his patient's pulse steady beneath his fingers, sensing his breathing light and easy. Satisfied that both he and his subject had achieved their desired objective, Adam allowed himself the luxury of a few moments' private reflection and meditation, pondering the loving and courageous soul who was Alan Lockhart.
A short while later, a knock at the door recalled Adam from his contemplation. Rousing himself, he looked around and released Lockhart's wrist as Ximena and her mother entered the room, their arms filled with parcels. Teresa started to speak, then stopped short, her dark eyes widening in sudden alarm as she stared at her husband's still form.
"It's all right, he's only asleep," Adam hastened to tell her.
Teresa recovered herself and forced a brittle smile. "I'm sorry. It's just that he looks so relaxed. I thought, for a moment…"
"I've been using hypnosis to help him bring the pain under control," Adam explained. "It's been my experience that the benefits of this kind of therapy are often enhanced by the laying on of hands. As you can see, your husband proved an excellent subject. When he comes back to us, you should see a significant improvement."
This prediction proved true. When Lockhart roused a short while later, he declared himself to be feeling better than he had in months.
"You'll still need some medication from one day to the next," Adam advised his patient, "but not so much as to cloud your senses. It isn't a cure, of course, but I think you can at least look forward to seeing the rest of your life through clear eyes."
Lockhart reached out and fondly patted his daughter's hand. "Just let me see you safely through your wedding, my girl," he told her with a smile. "That's the only thing that matters now."
"Hush!" Teresa reproved. "That's no way for you to talk."
But there were tears welling in her eyes. Adam could see she had guessed the truth - that her husband had just numbered his remaining span of days.
Well into the afternoon, toward the time when Adam and Ximena must head for the airport to collect Philippa, Alan Lockhart was still bearing up well, reminiscing animatedly with Teresa and Ximena. Dr. Saloa came to check in, and was astonished to observe his patient's good spirits and apparent lack of pain.
"He's still hanging on by a thread, but now I know why," Adam confided, when Saloa drew him aside to inquire about the morning's experiment with hypnosis. "He promised Ximena he'd be at her wedding. She was eight at the time."
Saloa blew out softly through pursed lips. "I knew he was stubborn," he murmured. "I guess it took a psychiatrist to get it out of him. The question is, Can he hold on for another thirty-six hours?"
"I think so," Adam replied, "though you'll want to continue his previous medication at about half the dose. And you are planning to attend the wedding, aren't you? I know it's Christmas Eve, and that's family time, but it would mean a great deal to this family. Alan thinks very highly of you, and he hasn't got long."
"Do you think he'll see the new year?" Saloa asked quietly.
"No. I don't think he'll see Christmas morning."
Saloa sighed, shaking his head. "A tough call. But it will be a mercy."
"Aye, it will. For all concerned."
"Right," Saloa said with another sigh. "I'll see to that change of medication on his orders. I expect you and Ximena ought to be heading for the airport."
The pair of them met Philippa's plane at San Francisco Airport, where holiday congestion only amplified the usual stir that accompanied Adam's mother when she travelled. Philippa embraced Ximena warmly, even before greeting Adam, holding her in a comforting hug for a long moment; and though they would have taken her back to the hospital to meet Ximena's family straightaway, she elected to retire early instead.
"We'll all be more rested in the morning," she said, firmly bidding them good night at the door to her hotel room. "Ximena, ring your mother from the lobby and tell her I'm exhausted from jet lag. See if she can join us for breakfast tomorrow, and then the two of you take some time for yourselves tonight."
"I adore your mother," Ximena said as they returned to the hotel car park. "When it comes to making a grand entrance, she'd put the likes of Cleopatra to shame."
Adam acknowledged Ximena's tribute with a chuckle. At seventy-seven, Philippa Sinclair had lost none of her ability to command attention wherever she went. On this occasion, she had been the cause of a minor stir when one helpful gentleman had collided with another whilst vying for the privilege of retrieving one of her suitcases from the baggage carousel.