It's still overcast and rainy as the pair leave the shelter of the Truro hospital, scampering through the car park hand in hand to the Land Rover. Stirling unbuckles, unzips and shrugs out of her life jacket before climbing in the passenger side. She's starting to unzip her survival suit when Joe clears his throat.
She looks over at him.
"Uhhh, you do have something on under that?" he asks, looking around the hospital car park nervously.
Stirling laughs, lowering the zipper slowly.
"Want to know?" she asks teasingly, giving him a big wink.
Joe blushes and swallows with an audible gulp as he watches the zipper move lower, making her laugh harder.
"Don't worry, I'm wearing a T-shirt," she says, unzipping the suit to her waist and pulling her arms out of the sleeves.
"How disappointing," he says, starting the Land Rover and backing out of the parking spot.
Stirling shifts over to the middle of the bench seat and clips on the lap belt. She leans her head against Joe's left shoulder and closes her eyes with a sigh of contentment.
"Tired?" he asks as they drive out of Truro on the A30, en route to Portwenn.
He puts his arm around her, allowing her to snuggle more closely against him.
"Yes," she says with a yawn. "It's exhausting to be absolutely terrified."
"That scary?"
"Petrifying. I'm not cut out for adventures on the high sea."
She looks up at him.
"I just wanted to have a quiet birthday at home with you, some take away, and a bubble bath."
Joe glances at his watch and puts his foot down on the accelerator.
"There's still time," he says.
Stirling smiles and closes her eyes again. Five minutes later, she's asleep.
Joe can feel the difference as she relaxes against his side. He smiles as he supports her body with his left arm, trying to keep her head from bouncing off his shoulder as he motors along the roadway.
It's dark when Stirling opens her eyes. Joe is smiling at her from the open passenger side door.
"And the birthday girl awakes."
"Was I asleep long?" she asks, yawning and stretching at the same time.
"Well, we're home," he says, backing away from the door so she can jump out. The Land Rover is already parked beside the surgery and it has stopped raining.
"Wow, I must have been tired," Stirling says, grabbing her doctor's bag and shutting the vehicle door.
It's then she notices the brown paper bags in Joe's hands.
"What's that?"
"Take away," he says with a smile. "You were muttering something about fish and chips in your sleep so I ordered some from The Crab and Lobster and picked it up on my way by."
She laughs.
"I should talk in my sleep more often. Maybe I can put in an order for an engagement ring and a new acoustic guitar."
Stirling's guitar has been missing since Portwenn's spring talent show when it disappeared from the backstage area. Nothing has been seen of it since. It has proven to be quite the mystery for Joe, who has searched every second hand shop and used music store around the area looking for it. At first, he had thought Stirling's ex-boyfriend, Spencer Graham, had taken it. But after Spencer's death last May and the subsequent investigation, it still hasn't been found.
"I don't know about the guitar but you know the condition attached to the engagement ring," Joe says as they climb the flagstone stairs and walk around to the back of the surgery. "Until you give me a date, no ring."
For the past few weeks, basically since Stirling agreed to marry Joe, they have been bickering about a date for the wedding. He wants to get married as soon as possible while she has – in typical Stirling fashion – been dragging her feet. In desperation, he set the ultimatum – they need to pick a date they can both agree to before an engagement ring can be purchased.
"You're such a bully," she says with a smile as she unlocks the back door and flicks on the kitchen lights.
"It's so good to be home and dry," she sighs, sitting down at the kitchen table and pulling off her waterproof boots. She unzips the survival suit the rest of the way and pulls her feet out of the elastic cuffed legs.
She stands up and stretches again, throwing the survival suit over the back of a kitchen chair.
Joe sets the bags of take away on the kitchen counter and turns toward Stirling to ask if she wants to eat right away. The question dies in his throat as he watches her wander into the piano room, wearing a black T-shirt and what appears to be very little else. The shirt is just long enough to cover her front and bottom.
He stares, excitement flaring deep in his belly. Or it might be hunger. Of course, at this point he doesn't really care.
Stirling touches the keyboard of her baby grand piano – a gift from her good friends Michael, Christopher and Leyland who live in London – and gently plays a short little tune before turning back toward the kitchen. It's then she notices Joe.
"What's the matter?" she asks, puzzled by his intense stare.
He gulps.
"Are – are you wearing pants?" he asks.
Stirling looks down at her long shirt and bare legs. She smiles mischievously.
"Yes, I am," she says in a sexy voice. "See?"
She pinches both sides of her T-shirt just below her breasts and slowly lifts the material, inching the bottom hem higher and higher until it uncovers her lacy pants.
She looks up at Joe, who is still standing in the kitchen, staring with his mouth slightly open. Several very long seconds pass. No one moves.
And then Stirling spins on the balls of her feet, running toward the front of the house. Joe ducks down the side hall with the low ceiling and turns right into the dark waiting room. He doesn't have enough time to brace for the collision as she runs straight into him, knocking him backwards on his arse. But he has enough sense to hang on to her as she falls on top of him. She laughs as she tries to squirm out of his grip but he's not letting go.
"Gotcha," he says, grabbing her behind the neck and drawing her lips down to his. He kisses her, managing to move his head just in time as she tries to bite his bottom lip.
"You want to play rough?" he asks, laughing as he rolls on top of her, his hands going up the inside of her shirt.
And that's when the room is suddenly flooded with light.
"SURPRISE!" says a chorus of voices as the consulting room door opens, a group of people rushing out into the waiting room. The front door opens almost immediately after, allowing even more people to flood into the surgery, also shouting "SURPRISE!"
And then there is silence.
Joe looks down at Stirling, who is trying her best to hide her face with her hands while burrowing into his armpit. He looks up slowly, counting about two dozen legs standing in front of him. He shifts his body and looks slowly over his right shoulder, counting about 20 more by the front entrance.
He does the math quickly.
Basically, there's about 22 people standing around the surgery looking at me lying in a sexual manner on top of a half-dressed Stirling with my hands up her shirt, he thinks. Aces!
He looks down again at Stirling, who has shifted her fingers so she can peek between them. She's looking up at him, her eyes begging for help.
Those same eyes suddenly widen with shock as a familiar voice echoes through the room.
"Okay, what's going on here? Oh! My! God! Stop that this instant! This is a waiting room, not your own personal rumpy-pumpy room!"
"Martin!" scolds Louisa, who is obviously with him.
Joe looks down at Stirling and shuts his eyes in embarrassment, mortification and defeat, his forehead hitting the floor beside her with a resounding bang.
And then a calm, Irish-lilting voice of reason is heard.
"Everyone, just turn around and go back to where you were hiding," says Leyland, taking over. "I think this is a situation that calls for what I believe is termed a do-over."
Stirling blushes as she hears Michael's laughing voice echo through the room
"I'm sure he wants to do-her-over," he chuckles.
"Out you go, Mr. Michael," Leyland says.
There is much rumbling and grumbling but as Joe opens his eyes and lifts his throbbing head, he sees the numerous feet in front of him turn around and go back into the consulting room, closing the door behind them. And then the front door behind him closes.
"Leyland?" Stirling calls in a stage whisper. "Is it safe?"
"Yes, Miss Stirling."
Joe quickly jumps up, helping her to her feet. He turns and finds Leyland standing with his back to the room, providing them with a small amount of privacy.
He turns to look at a red-faced Stirling.
"I swear I had no idea," he says desperately.
She looks at him and laughs.
"I know," she says, giving him a quick kiss of reassurance. "Was that as horrifyingly embarrassing for you as it was for me?"
She pulls down her T-shirt as far as she can.
"I'm just going to run upstairs and get dressed, okay?"
Joe is suddenly terrified.
"Don't leave me down here to greet these people alone!" he begs as he grabs her arm, desperation in his voice.
"I can't stay down here half naked!"
"I'll make them wait until you return, Miss Stirling," says Leyland calmly.
"There," she says, patting Joe's pale cheek. "You won't have to face them alone. We can experience the humiliation together."
She quickly runs up the stairs and into the bedroom. Joe can hear the wardrobe doors being yanked open and dresser drawers being pulled opened and slammed closed. Water runs in the upstairs washroom.
Joe clears his throat.
"When did you, Michael and Christopher arrive from London?" he asks, trying to fill the awkward silence.
"We came in on the afternoon train," says Leyland, his hands clasped formally behind his back. "We arranged to have a rental car at the station when we arrived. You wouldn't have noticed the black BMW parked down by The Crab and Lobster when you arrived back from Truro."
"No, we didn't," Joe mutters.
"Mr. Michael and Mr. Christopher have been planning for several weeks to come up and surprise Miss Stirling for her birthday. They obviously should have called ahead and informed you of their plans."
"Yes, they should have."
"My apologies."
"No apologies needed, Patrick," assures Joe. "I'm sure it wasn't your idea to hide a dozen people in the consulting room and have another 10 rush through the front door, catching us in the middle of a somewhat private moment."
"No, Joe, it wasn't."
"Thank you for helping us out."
"Yes, thank you, Leyland," Stirling echoes as she comes quickly down the stairs in her red party dress with black polka-dots.
She grabs Joe's hand and smiles at him.
"Ready?" she whispers.
"You look beautiful," he says.
She smiles and reaches up to push back his hair.
"Okay, let's try this again," she says to Leyland, who switches off the waiting room lights.
Somehow, they manage to live through the whole "SURPRISE!" element of the party for the second time while still retaining a small shred of their dignity. Over the course of the evening, they face a constant barrage of teasing, especially from Michael.
"Talk about being caught with your pants down," he roars, Scotch in hand. "You didn't even have any on, Ling-Ling!"
"Actually Michael, I was wearing pants," she says, sipping from her ice water. "It was trousers I was missing."
"And you!" Michael says, turning on a red-faced Joe. "That was a hell of a take-down, Sergeant. You had her right where you wanted her. Were you going to use the handcuffs next? I saw you were frisking her. Who knows what kind of weapon she might have been secreting up her shirt. Smart thinking."
Stirling rolls her eyes at him.
"That's enough, Michael. Please find a new subject to bother us with unceasingly. Or do I have to get Leyland to cut you off?"
The Irish gentleman's gentleman has been put in charge of Stirling's skimpy bar reserves. As a non-drinker, she doesn't have much alcohol in the house, just enough for occasional company. Tonight's entourage – consisting mostly of Portwenn residents – is proving to be a thirsty one and is quickly depleting her reserves.
"I have a feeling this gathering is going to have to move down the hill," she says to Morwenna and Louisa, who are both sipping the last of the red wine.
Stirling glances over at the Doc, who is gripping a glass of water as he scowls at the piano room carpet. His aunt, Dr. Ruth Ellingham, is sipping from her half glass of wine as she discusses something with him.
"Did the Chief mention anything to you about an emergency appendectomy he performed late this afternoon?" she asks Louisa.
"Yes, he said it went well. Luckily, the young man's appendix hadn't burst but it was very close. He said the attending GP did an impressive job getting the man transported to hospital by coastguard helicopter as quickly as possible, despite the nasty weather. Horrible weather today for flying helicopters."
Stirling nods in agreement, going over the words "impressive job" in her mind. She grins over at the Chief who looks up and gives her a puzzled look before returning to his chat with Ruth.
She wanders over to her pitiful bar selection.
"Am I dry yet, Leyland?" she asks.
"One shot of gin and a couple fingers of Scotch left but nothing for Mr. Christopher's martinis and no wine."
She sighs, climbs up on one of her kitchen chairs and gives a shrill whistle.
All conversation ceases as guests turn to stare at her.
"Okay everyone, the Stirling Aylesworth free birthday bar service has now ceased operation. If you wish to continue this merriment with an alcoholic bevvy in your hand, you will need to trot out the front door, turn right and stagger down the hill before entering the well-lit pub down by the harbour. My understanding is Michael Aubrey, Esquire, will be covering the drinks bill. Cheers!"
"Cheers!" most of the crowd answers back, immediately moving toward the front door. As they pass Michael, they slap him enthusiastically on the back, thanking him for his wonderful generosity.
"That was very well played, No-Trousers Aylesworth," Michael says as she jumps down from her chair-top perch. "Very well played. Not only have you managed to clear most of the people from your little love nest, you've also succeeded in leaving me on the hook for a rather expensive bar bill."
"And you've succeeded in disrupting a nice quiet evening I had planned, embarrassing Joe and I in front of a large group of villagers, while also drinking me out of house and home," she says, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek. "Have fun down at The Crab and Lobster. I'll see you in the morning."
Gently but firmly, she escorts Michael to the front door, followed by Christopher and Leyland.
"Goodnight boys," she says, waving as they walk out the door.
The Doc, Louisa and Ruth also say goodnight, leaving Stirling and Joe alone in the house for the first time in hours.
She locks the front door quickly and leans against it, looking relieved.
"Thank god! I thought they would never leave!"
She looks over at Joe, who is wandering around the piano room, cleaning up glasses, plates and garbage.
"Stop that this instant!" she says in a deep, Doc-like voice. "You're my fiance, not some man servant!"
Joe laughs as she walks over to him in an almost perfect imitation of the Doc's rapid, arm-swinging stride. She puts her arms around his shoulders and kisses him gently.
"That can wait," she says. "Where were we before we were so rudely interrupted?"
"Well, as I recall, you had a lot less clothing on. And there weren't so many lights."
He glances over at the empty kitchen counter.
"Unfortunately, some unexpected people ate all our take away but I can make us something else instead."
Stirling kisses him again and bends his neck down to whisper in his ear.
"I'm not hungry for take away or any food for that matter."
She gives him a wink.
"I'll lock the back door," Joe says quickly, spinning around to rush into the kitchen.
"And I'll get the water running," says Stirling, scampering into the waiting room and up the stairs.
A few minutes later, as she tests the temperature again and pours a dollop of bubble bath into the running water, she hears Joe's footsteps coming up the stairs and into the bedroom.
"Ready to get your back scrubbed?" she asks, walking into the bedroom.
"Happy Birthday," says Joe, holding out a black guitar case with a big red bow on it.
Stirling stops in shock.
"I know it's not your original and it can't really be replaced but I know you miss playing. I thought you might want to stay in practice using a different guitar for now, that is until I find your old one."
Stirling stands still, staring at the case in his hands, her eyes shining.
"Oh, Joe!" she finally says, taking the case gently from him and setting it on the bed. She opens it carefully and looks at the acoustic guitar nestled inside. It's almost an exact replica of her old one.
"I even had someone embroider your name on the strap, just like you described," he says. "It should be in tune."
She takes the guitar out and plucks her thumb along the strings.
"It's beautiful," she says, looking up at him and giving him that smile he loves so much.
She sets the guitar back in its case gently before she wraps her arms around Joe.
"Thank you," she says, giving him a big kiss. "It's perfect."
They kiss again, and again, the passion and pressure of their kisses building. And then Stirling hears a sound remarkably similar to a waterfall. She breaks her lips away from Joe's, spinning around with a gasp.
"The water!"
She rushes into the washroom, slipping and sliding in the bubbles and water that has overflowed the tub onto the floor. She manages to turn off the faucet before she loses her footing, falling on her arse in a soapy wet puddle.
Joe watches her from the doorway, trying not to laugh.
"I'll go get some extra towels from downstairs," he says, turning and rushing from the bedroom as quickly as he can.
Stirling can hear him laughing as he runs all the way down the stairs.
Thank god I only have one birthday a year, she thinks.
