Buffalo Pictures owns the "Doc Martin" TV series, and all credit goes to them and all the people who make the show what it is.
I don't own any rights to "Doc Martin," and I'm not making any money off it.
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Chapter 8: The Dance
Louisa woke up to terrible, throbbing pain. She wanted nothing but to let out a bloodcurdling scream, but her motherly instinct quickly kicking in gear, she refrained, not wanting to wake James.
Instead, she bit her lip and analyzed the situation.
Of course.
She had rolled part way onto her broken arm.
Carefully, she attempted to extricate herself, but, battered and weary as she was, this was no easy task.
"Louisa! Good heavens! Let me help you with that!"
Martin rushed into the room, and gingerly helped roll her over.
"Ah, Martin, you're a life-saver!"
The reality of that statement suddenly hit her like a ton of bricks.
The events of the past day, of the past week, of the years since that fateful meeting on the plane, came flooding back to her.
She frowned.
So much for her dream.
It had been such a good dream too, even if it was unrealistic.
Martin, accept an invitation to a dance, a raucous dance, with loud music, and unusually obnoxious townspeople? What had she been thinking?
In real life, Martin had, of course, rejected her overture, as usual; been hurt by Louisa's choice of Mark as her date; gotten Stewart all wrong; and generally muffed the whole thing up.
She felt a grim smile curling to her lips. It was the epitome of their relationship: misunderstandings, wreckless actions taken in frustration, all mixed in with a fair dose of love and affection, often where it was least expected.
"Do you still feel pain in your arm?" her husband's voice gently broke through her thoughts.
"Um...a lil' bit, yes."
"Hmm," Martin said. 'I'll go fetch some painkillers from the examination room."
"I'll...I'll come with you, if that's alright..."
rtain looked surprised.
"Umm...sure..."
He helped her out of bed, then steadied her as she rose to her feet.
"Careful going down the steps," he admonished quietly as he turned to descend.
"Yes, doctor." Louisa grumbled under her breath.
Once downstairs, Martin fetched the painkillers and administered them.
"That should take about a half hour to start working."
Louisa nodded silently.
Looking around, she noticed a cup of half-drunk coffee sitting on the table.
"Bit late for that, innit?"
"Um...well...I was looking up some stuff..." Martin said, evasively.
"What kind of stuff?"
"Oh...just...you know...stuff..."
He bit his lip, cursing his guardedness.
There was a look of comprehension on Louisa's face. She sighed exasperatedly.
"Oh Martin...what are we going to do?"
Martin looked pained. He wanted to tell his diagnosis of the problem, set out a strategy that would cure all their troubles. He wanted to rattle off the list of marriage counselors and therapists he had spent much of the evening looking up.
But the pain on Louisa's face, her shattered weary condition just sucked the life out of him, drive a knife into his heart.
Louisa looked on hoping, silently pleading for some kind of answer.
Finally Martin broke his terrible silence.
"Oh Louisa," he said embracing her gently.
"I couldn't bear to see you go. Not again."
Louisa's eyes grew moist. This...this was so unlike the Martin she had seen over the past couple of weeks...or months... In fact, she had only rarely gotten glimpses of this emotional side of Martin, beautiful glimpses, but rare.
She stroked the back of his head as she pressed her body against his.
Suddenly, she felt Martin pull away from the embrace.
Bracing for some ill-timed admonition about her injured arm, she bit down on her lip.
"Louisa..."
She warned him with a sharp glance.
Martin swallowed hard.
"Louisa," he began again. To his surprise his voice sounded confident and firm this time around.
"I will do whatever it takes...whatever...to make this work."
Tears flowed down Louisa's face. She bit harder on her lip.
He swallowed hard again. "But I can't do it alone. I need your help, Louisa."
Louisa looked up into his eyes, wanting to believe him, believe in them, but she was, quite honestly, afraid. Afraid, that, yet again, her, or him, would slip up and fall, and that the injury would be worse, perhaps...fatal. The thought of a heart wrenching end, like her dad and mum had had, like Martin and her had come close to so many times, was like a debilitating punch in her stomach.
"I...I had this dream Martin, about the Port Wenn Players Dance, years ago, Do you remember?"
Martin's eyebrows drew together.
"Yes. I...I was a bit of a turd."
A brief smile poked through Louisa's tears. "You've had finer moments."
"Yes."
"Well, anyway, I dreamed that you accepted, but then we had to babysit..."
Martin looked puzzled.
"Well...anyway...my point is...we danced. It was sort of like a dream come true...only...it was a dream...so obviously...I mean it didn't..."
"I...I had no idea it meant so much to you..."
"Well, it wasn't so much the dance, as the..."
"Louisa, we can dance any time you want."
"...it's this ideal I have, sort o' silly you kn-...wait...what?"
"We can dance anyti-"
"Really?"
"If that's what you want..."
Silence reigned for a moment.
"Would...you dance with me now?"
"Well...there's your...um...arm...to consider..."
Louisa's shoulders sunk.
"Oh...right. I'd nearly forgotten."
Martin hovered on the edge of doubt for a second.
"Well...maybe...if we're extra careful..."
he conceded.
Louisa's eyes lit up.
"Are you sure?"
"Why not?" Martin said, a small smile appearing on his lips.
Louisa studied Martin's face, the deep affection and feeling hidden under all those lines of care. He desperately wanted to be a better father and husband, and he would try his best, of that she was certain. Whether his best was enough...that was the question.
Even as she thought these things, her fearful, sad eyes remained riveted to his soft, pained ones. There was just...something...about his eyes, that gaze, this...man. It was in moments like this that she recalled so vividly why, after all they'd been through, she stuck by him, pledged to spend the rest of her life with him.
Slowly, gradually, any lingering feelings of hostility simply melted away.
What had she been thinking?
She couldn't just demand that Martin change, that he conform to her every imagined preference, with no change in her own action or attitudes.
Martin was only human, and while he needed to change, he was not alone. She too must compromise, must find a way to make this work. Martin had said he needed her help, and she would give it, freely, for this man she loved, so very dearly.
"Oh Martin!" she said clinging even harder to him.
"Louisa," Martin said in a soothing voice.
In the sweet silence that followed, Louisa could swear she heard the faint sounds of music playing in the background.
"Do you hear that Martin?"
He listened for a moment, then nodded his head.
"It's coming from the direction of the village hall I think."
"Ah, the Portwenn Players Dance. How ironic..."
"Yes..." Martin said, aloofly.
Suddenly he pulled her gently toward the front hall.
"Martin...what are you doin'?"
"I've an idea."
Louisa raised her eyebrows.
It wasn't like Martin to have 'ideas,' not romantic ideas at any rate.
He opened the front door and they both exited the house onto the front step. They took in the beautiful, sapphire-colored, star-studded night sky.
From here they could hear the music from the dance quite clearly.
The couple looked toward each other, taking each other in in silence.
Suddenly Louisa fidgeted.
"I really should see to James..." she said.
Martin closed the front door.
"He'll be fine for a few minutes."
Louisa nodded.
"S'pose so," she said, uncomfortably.
Slowly she raised her eyes to Martin's.
"Louisa," he asked softly, "may I have this dance?"
She nodded, her eyes gleaming
With great care, he drew her close, to him. A soft slow tune began down below.
"You're really quite experienced at this, aren't you Martin?"
"Well, I was one of the top students in my dance class," he said, bluntly.
"Hmm..." she said, with a mischievous smile. "I can tell."
They kissed, long and passionately.
And with that they began to dance, there on the doorstep, with the stars and the sea as an audience, as the singer's words wafted across the town.
"I've watched the sunrise in your eyes
And I've seen the tears fall like the rain.
You've seen me fight so brave and strong
You've held my hand when I'm afraid.
We've watched the seasons come and go
We'll see them come and go again
But in winter's chill, or summer's breeze
One thing will not be changin'
We will dance,
When the sun is shining in the pouring rain
We'll spin and we'll sway
And we will dance
When the gentle breeze becomes a hurricane
The music will play,
And I'll hold you close
And I won't let you go-
Even when our steps grow weak and slow-
Still I'll take your hand,
And hold you close to me,
And we,
Will dance."*
THE END
*IMPORTANT NOTE: These lines are in fact from the song "We Will Dance," sung and written by Stephen Curtis Chapman, and thus the property of Sparrow Records. It is a beautiful song, addressed, like many of his songs, to his wife, and made all the poignant by the tragic death of their young daughter in a car accident a few years ago. I highly recommend it.
Thanks for reading, and for all of you who have reviewed this, and other stories over the past few months! Sorry the last chapter took so long! Let me know what you think!
