Chapter 4

Ruth looked at her nephew. The formerly confident and self-assured man was but a shadow of his former self. He looked haggard and worn and his hand was slightly twitching. Before yesterday, she had never seen Martin in such a state. She had seen the whining baby and the shy and vulnerable toddler, but from then on he had seemed strong and composed and self sufficient. Until he had turned up at the farm yesterday, totally upset.

In the short time she had lived close to her nephew, Ruth had grown quite fond of Martin. When he had been little, she'd never had much to do with him. She had always found children quite irritating and was out of her depth around them. They were so irritatingly irrational.

It was even easier for her to find a motivation for someone murdering three of his wives than for a six-month-old's wailing and whining. As those irritating little creatures hardly reacted to human language at all, she was robbed of her most potent tool of handling difficult situations. No, children definitely had never been her strong suit, and as life and an awkward social disposition had spared her producing some herself, she had preferred to keep away from them as much as possible.

She had gladly left the caring to Joanie, who always had been the motherly type, even without having children of her own.

When Martin had been older, he had been a bit awkward and remote and she hadn't been particularly interested in him either, she had to admit. She had always excused herself because of her busy work schedule, but if she was being honest with herself, that wasn't the true reason. In fact she had never really been interested in her brother, his awful wife and anything about them, including Martin.

She had followed his career with certain interest, especially as he did the Ellingham-name proud for a long time. He seemed to take every hurdle with flying colours.

Until he stumbled, falling flat on his face.

Ruth had to admit that she had read Joan's descriptions of Martin's life down in Cornwall with lukewarm interest at best. Joan had quite a romantic streak, and instead of exploring why a gifted surgeon was stranded in the back-of-beyond, she had kept on about this love interest. Ruth had though that was pure wishful thinking on her sister's part, but in the long run reality had proven her right.

Ruth's interest in Martin had really been piqued, when she had confessed to him about her fear of her falsely self-diagnosed Lupus. She had sensed something in Martin she hadn't thought possible, something that made her ashamed as she had never reciprocated it herself.

Martin had honestly cared.

Their yearly phone calls had been their only contact, so she couldn't really claim he was a close relative. Still, even before he had corrected her diagnosis, she had been deeply touched by his question if there was anything he could do to help. It wasn't the question that had touched her, but the tone in his voice.

It was then that she had realised that there was more to her nephew than any other Ellingham she had encountered before. An urge to care.

Maybe this urge had manifested itself in his clinging to his family. He could have easily done what any other Ellingham in his situation would have done – write some cheques. The more she saw of Martin and his son, the more she got the impression that he genuinely wanted to be part of a family.

Knowing his background, she also knew that he had very little chance of knowing how to go about it.

That's why she had warned him not to marry Louisa. Ruth had feared it would a task too big for Martin. Unfortunately, right now it seemed he had proven her right. The worst thing about it was that he was really crushed by it.

Yesterday, sitting in the field with him, she had realised that he and this strange quaint village had changed her too. She also wasn't just interested in dissecting the reasons for human behaviour, but for the first time she really wanted to improve the life of someone in her care. This was her chance to help undo at least some of the damage she had allowed to be imposed on Martin in not intervening when he was little. This was a chance to repay him for her getting a new interest in life and not just grieving over the prospect of a false self-diagnosis.

Maybe doctors really shouldn't diagnose themselves, as even Martin had been on the completely wrong track when trying to get to the bottom of his feeling unwell, and Ruth had to admit that he was probably the best diagnostician she had ever come across.

To be continued…