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.

Let me know what you think! I love reading your reviews, and take them into account as I write. Thank you to those of you who already have, especially those who've read and reviewed other stories as well!

Chapter 14

Note: A special thank you to those of you who have shared your stories and feedback about autism. It really has been an amazing learning experience.

April 2014

"For me it's between Amaranth Pink, Cerise, and Persian Pink." Louisa held the color chart up to the wall of the nursery, carefully studying at close proximity the variations of pink offered by the local hardware store.

At last she sighed heavily, unable to choose.

"I just don't know." she said, shaking her head as if this was a true tragedy.

She suddenly turned her gaze toward Martin, her voice and her movements full of dramatic flare. "What do you think...Martin?"

"Is it really a big deal?," he asked in a puzzled voice.

One look from Louisa gave him his answer.

"Umm...well...right then..."

He cleared his throat.

"Aramanth Pink is a reddish-pink color derived from the amaranth flower, itself derived from a legendary flower that supposedly grew undying upon the slopes of . It symbolizes eternal love. "

Louisa raised her eyes in surprise. Since when had Martin become such an expert on paint colors?

"Cerise is a vivid reddish pink. The word 'cerise' comes from the French for "cherry," and the color resembles the darker red hue of the cherries in a cherry pie. Painting Joan's room this color with give it an aura of wholesome goodness."

"And the Persian pink?"

"Ah yes...derived from a rose native to the dusty steppes of Iran. It is also used in women's fashion designs...Gracing our roller with this color will lend a certain femininity to the room, without being flashy or too intense."

Louisa's eyes glistened.

"And...if you had to choose one...?

"Oh definitely the Persian Pink. It's feminine. I mean she is a girl and all."

"I couldn't have put it better myself. Where did you acquire your artistic taste, Martin?"

The doctor shrugged and took Louisa in his arms.

"Art class was mandatory at school...it was one of my favorite subjects. During those...difficult...years it was one of the few things that kept me going."

Louisa caressed his shoulder, her face sad.

"You poor thing, bandied about by those ferocious bullies and those heartless teachers."

Martin closed his eyes and shook his head, "Do not mention it my dear...the pain is still too great..."

"Oh Martin!"

"You're the first living soul I've ever told, my darling. It must remain a secret...between us," he said.

"I like the sound of that," Louisa said with a flirtatious smile.

They kissed passionately.

"Are you quite good...at the art and all?"

"My art teacher, who studied under Le Peintre,* said I could have been one of the Masters...but after long years of soul-searching, I finally chose Surgery instead...you see, I wanted to help people."

"Oh Martin, you must paint something before your great talent is lost...forever!"

She quickly grabbed a brush and a small bucket of oil-based paint, conveniently located nearby, and handed it to Martin. He held the brush aloft, like a miniature version of the Staue od Liberty.

"I'd like to paint...!" he paused, his eyes lowering from the brush to his wife.

"I'd like to paint you, my darling Louisa..."

Waiting Room, Truro Fertility Clinic, Truro, Cornwall

Martin bemusedly studied his wife's twisted form.

The woman, in her early 40's and now 4 months pregnant, sat sprawled across the narrow chair, head back, mouth agape.

If it had been anyone but Louisa, Martin would have found it disturbing and awkward, not to mention unhealthy, but for reasons he wasn't sure of, he found her strangely attractive. He realized he rarely had or took the time to study his wife to take in her beauty, despite ample opportunities to do so. Before they were married, he'd go far out of his way to catch a glimpse of her, and delight in an opportunity to be near her, even if this meant their often disparate wills and personalities clashed. These days, of course, such efforts weren't needed-and yet the familiarity had perhaps caused him to take for granted how very beautiful Louisa really was.

The phone rang at a nearby desk, startling Louisa. She awoke groggily, a bit sad at the loss of the fluffy, if totally unrealistic little dream that had been so rudely interrupted. Martin, the newly-revealed closet artist had just finished telling her how 'well-balanced' her features were-'perfect for a portrait...'

She couldn't help but wish, in some small measure, that the dream had in fact been true. She could use some romantic once-in-awhile.

But deep down inside, she knew that wasn't her Martin, and that no imagined idealization would make the cut the way the real Martin Ellingham did. No, she loved Martin Ellingham as he was, come rain or foul temper.
As she slowly cleared away the mental fog, she made eye contact with him. Martin had a sudden urge to look away, pretend he hadn't been staring at his wife for the past 10 minutes, go back to musing over the proper weight and size for the baby at this stage. But he simply couldn't. He was mesmerized by her beauty, and especially her eyes, still soft with sleep.

Louisa shot him a smile and returned his gaze. Inwardly, she let out a contented sigh.

"How did you sleep?"

"I slept well..." She grinned mischievously. "Like a baby." She glanced down at her belly.

Martin nodded bemusedly.

Louisa straightened herself up.

"I must have looked a bit ridiculous floundering all over the chair like this."

"Umm...well...I really...I don't think there's enough people around to care, Louisa." She glanced around the waiting room. A few people, mainly couples sat sprinkled here and there, all of them minding their own business not looking in their direction.

"This is Truro after all."

Louisa laughed. "No gawkers or nosy neighbors here."

"I doubt we'll meet anyone we know," Martin said happily.

Louisa nodded her head quietly. Was that a good thing?

Martin noticed the look.

"Umm...Louisa, how is the new gym coming along?"

"Well the construction's going kind of slow, like almost everything else in Cornwall." Martin nodded his head appreciatively.

"...But we've made some real progress. They tell me the vast majority will be finished by mid-summer." Her eyes glistened. More and more recently, Martin had made deliberate attempts to talk with her about things he knew interested her. It made her feel good, like he approved of her work and felt that it was important.

"Maybe we could...go...umm look around it later..." he said. Coming out of his mouth, the idea sounded a bit silly and unromantic. The school was, after all, a short walk away from the Surgery and Louisa must have seen the construction site a hundred times."

"Yes!" Louisa said, to his surprise. "I'd like that a lot."

She fingered his hand, then looked at him with affectionate eyes.

"It means alot to me that you care about my job..."

"Well of course. It's important to you, so therefore it's important to me."

"Oh. So you don't really care?"

"No, quite on the contrary. I've developed an interest in it because it involves you. Just as you've taken to reading an occasional medical article from time to time. It's the same principle."

"Martin, what do you think about me as the Head Teacher. I know once you were opposed to me taking on that role and being a mom."

"Oh...well...you've been very...productive..." Louisa raised her eyebrows. "In a good way," he added.

Louisa nodded approval.

"And you were right about being a mom and working. You've really done quite marvelous."

"Inconvenienced you some though."

"James isn't an inconvenience," Martin said, glancing at his son in the baby carrier on the seat next to him.

They both smiled.

"I'm glad you've come to see it that way, Martin. But it is a bit inconvenient for you, isn't it?"

"Not really...Mike's baby-sitting for the time being."

"But he's going to go on that book tour for that book of his about St. Piran. You should read it some time. Quite a thriller."

Martin's lack of reply indicated that he had much better things to do than read novels about Cornish saints.

Louisa grabbed Martin's hands.

"I'm thinking of resigning from teaching."

Martin's eyes were wide.

"Nothing's settled yet, but I wanted to let you know I was considering it."

"But Louisa..."

"It would be my decision Martin. I don't feel any pressure from you or anyone else."

"Louisa Ellingham?," a nurse suddenly called.

"We'll discuss this more later, eh?" Louisa said. Martin nodded hesitantly.

They followed the nurse back to a small room where Louisa sat in the examination chair.

"Do you know this Dr. Harrison, Martin?"

"No. All I know is she's a highly recommended gynecologist who's worked in Truro for several years and has an excellent record."

"That's good enough for me."

As Louisa was talking, a thin red-haired woman in her early 50's walked in.

She grinned sardonically as she saw the couple's eyes grow wide.

"Edith?"

To Be Continued...

* French for "The Painter"

Thanks again for reading! Let me know what you think.