Chapter 14 – Honeymoon

It was getting late and sleep kept pulling my eyelids closed, so I dropped the medical journal onto the night table. "Louisa?" I asked her, "Are you ready for sleep? Shall I turn out the light?" It was just after we had returned from the beach, and the sunset had finished as we returned.

She sat upright, reading her E-book. "In a minute." She yawned. "Just let me read for a few minutes."

She was wearing a yellow nightgown, and it must be new as I'd not seen it and Louisa usually wore pyjamas. The garment was long and satiny, and her dark hair made it glorious on her.

"Right." It was nearly ten o'clock my usual bedtime. Louisa tended to stay up later, usually marking papers and such for school. And tending to James sometimes went late, but he was sleeping well, lately thank heavens. The little child did have his ways and when he put his mind to it his parents were bent to his will – whether from a wet nappy, a windy tummy, or any number of untold fears and discomforts of a young baby.

Louisa smiled at me. "It's been a full day; travel and all. Wasn't that sunset brilliant?"

"Yes." I rolled towards her and put my arm about her waist, as I yawned. "Good night."

"Don't I get a kiss?"

I did my duty.

"Good night, Martin," she said as I drifted towards sleep.

Sometime later I woke to hear her voice. It did not sound at all at ease. I rolled to my side and found Louisa's side of the bed empty. "Louisa?" I sat up in alarm.

"Over here Martin." She was seated on the sofa in the mini-lounge, her legs stretched out along the length of the two-seater. The room lights were off, but for a single night light shining in the loo.

"Are you all right?" I asked and hearing no answer, I repeated the question.

Her voice came to me with a break in her tone. "Hope so."

I rolled from the bed and walked to her, the floor tile chilling my bare feet. I stood over her, her long yellow nightgown faintly visible in the dim light. Her face was a ghostly halo. "Are you well? Sunburned, that it?"

Her head fell. "No…" she grabbed at my hand. "Martin… I…" I heard her sniffle.

The words oh God, flashed into my head but I held them in. I dropped to one knee. "Something is wrong." I put my other hand on her neck.

She seized me like a drowning person blubbering onto my pyjama vest. It took some moments for her to calm down and to get an intelligible answer from her.

After she blew her nose, wiped her eyes, and a few hiccups had issued forth I asked her bluntly. "What is the matter?"

"I… I bought this nightgown, for our honeymoon…"

"Yes," I answered.

"No. Not this honeymoon. The other one." Her face went back to my chest where more mucus and tears were deposited upon it. "The other…"

I sighed. Last November we did not get married. We each had jilted the other. Then she left for London, more like snuck off, and then she returned to Port Wenn in the spring bearing a six-month fetus in her uterus; our baby. Then James was born in due turn, and after a rocky summer of attempting to accommodate one another and repetitive delays for my departure to a new job, here we were.

"We're married now," I said, knowing it was the wrong thing to say. More tears came out, and all I could do was to hold her as her body shook.

She mumbled into my chest.

"What?" I asked. "I can't hear you when you are not speaking clearly."

She sighed. "Martin! I know!" She almost hit me as she thumped my back. "I know that… but…"

"But?"

"We've done it all backwards! We got pregnant, before a wedding that got cancelled, then I left, and then came back, and then you were going to leave…" she gasped, "but you stayed…"

Her recitation was not that different from what Mrs. Tishell said a month ago.

Louisa finished her emotional outburst with, "And this nightgown… was supposed to be special… and you're asleep, that is you were asleep."

Had the wine affected Louisa in some strange way? Was it the sun or the afternoon love making? I was puzzled how to respond. "I was asleep, yes."

Her luminous eyes fixed on me as she plucked at the garment. "I bought this… for our… wedding night."

We were married last weekend, after we agreed that it was best to formalize our relationship. "But that, ahem, was, just when exactly?"

She shook her head violently. "I don't know and I can't figure it out. It makes me feel…"

Silence fell for a few seconds, and it finally crept into my thick cranium what she was saying, at least a slight amount. "You're confused."

"Yeah. Was it last year, when you proposed? And as near as I can figure that was when I got pregnant, or was it last week, or was it… oh damn, Martin, we've bollixed up the whole thing."

I closed my eyes and tried to remember a half overheard conversation from my training years. One of the consultants had gotten married and was describing in detail the hotel where they had stayed after his wedding and reception, how the room looked and so on. There were flowers on the bed, champagne on ice and so forth. He even described the aftershave he had carefully selected, the silk briefs (a total waste I thought then and now) he had bought at a gentleman's store, and the half-lit and romantic tableaux he recounted as he took his new bride to bed properly, for the very first time.

I dropped Louisa's hands and saw it was barely ten-thirty PM. I was not certain quite what to do but I spoke anyway. "Go to the lavatory, wash your face, put on fresh perfume and return to bed. I…"

"You'll do what?"

I bent my head and kissed her cheek. "Go to the lav."

"And?" Her eyes were large.

I sprang up, pulled on a rumpled pair of suit pants plus shoes and a slightly smelly shirt, went to the door and stomped out into the night.

000

The desk clerk was nearly sleeping, in spite of the raucous sounds from the bar and nightclub. Clearly festive nights started late and went late and I was grateful our bungalow was a little secluded form the action.

"Senor?" the man asked rubbing his eyes.

"I need…"

"Si? Yes, sir?" the man switched to English. He ran his eyes up and down my disheveled clothing.

"My wife and I are staying in bungalow 13."

"Si. Doctor Ellinghaaam," he drew out the last syllable. "Senor Manager Catalao told me to render all aid to you. How may I?"

I scanned the reception area. Some sort of flower arrangement was on the counter, a vase holding red carnations and fern leaves. "I'll take this," I scooped up the vase, and saw another by the elevator, which I appropriated. "And I'll have these."

"Senor?" The man bristled. "These are for the reception! You cannot take…"

"Shush!" I pushed all the flowers into one vase scattering water droplets and castoff leaves on the floor and counter. "Now! I need…" I drummed my fingers. "Candy."

"Candy, senor?"

"Yes, you fool! Sweets, chocolates!"

"We have some in the shop next door, but they are almost closing for the night! If you wish I can have some for you in the morning…"

I left the man gawping as I scuttled into the shop by the restaurant where a clerk was locking down security gates. I ducked under them wild eyed. "Chocolates?"

The woman recoiled seeing an apparent mad-man in her shop. "Chocolates?"

"Yes! That is what I need!"

The desk clerk came after me and spoke to the woman. I caught the words loco and doctor in rapid fire Spanish. The man twirled a finger by his heard but stopped when I glared at him.

"Doctor Ellinghaaam – aqui? Here?" The man held out a slim white and gold box. "From Belgium? These are muy…" he paused, "how you say?" he smacked his lips.

"I'll take them." I paused. Now what had that dolt said all those years back? One more thing. What was it? Ah, yes! "Champagne."

"Champagne? That would be in the bar, senor! Not here!" the clerk yelled astonished.

"Come with me!" I tucked the box under my arm and ran into the din of the bar, where it looked to me like a German football team was camped out, all trying to kiss the waitresses or least grope them, while swilling Spanish wine and liqueurs. I tried to get the barmaid's attention, but was finally aided by the clerk, who pulled her over and spoke in her ear. This time the madman gesture was not used by him.

"It's my honeymoon!" I yelled to the woman, who smiled with a row of perfect teeth.

More Spanish conversation ensued as she prepared a tray, complete with a linen covering, an ice bucket, a bottle of bubbly, and two long-stemmed fluted glasses. "Felicitaciones!" she shouted into my ear.

I balanced the tray, held the chocolate box under my arm precariously and intercepted the vase from the reception counter as the desk clerk watched in amazement. I started to the door and was aided through by the clerk whose eyes were now knowing and kind.

"Senor!" the man almost saluted.

"Yes?"

The man held the door open and winked. "Have a pleasant night. Congratulations!"

The door swung shut to a cheering yell from the vicinity of the bar.

000

The bungalow was almost completely dark and silent as I pushed the door open, while juggling the items I held.

"Martin?"

I fumbled with a key, the tray, the box of candy, and the flowers. I saw Louisa was now back in bed, her hair combed, makeup fixed and her E-book in her hand. One lamp was on a low setting.

I tried to catch my breath. "I am…" I walked slowly to the bed. "Louisa, I am…" I tried to shrug. "A bit…"

"Oh, Martin? For me?"

I bit my tongue as I put the flower vase on the dresser. The tray went next to it. Then I walked to the bed and held out the pasteboard box. "Candy?"

She took the box and looked in. "These are…"

"Belgian."

She put a piece into her mouth. "Gosh. Orange and chocolate! How did you know these are my favorite?"

"The flowers…"

"Oh… red carnations! Wherever did you find those?"

I slowly walked to the lav and closed the door. I washed my face, ran the razor quickly over my cheeks, and combed my hair. The rumpled suit bits went onto the counter, and I smoothed the now rumpled pyjama bottoms I wore. The vest was wet with Louisa's tears and nasal discharges so I stripped it off.

I entered the bedroom as Louisa watched me silently and I took the champagne tray to bedside. And put it on the foot of the bed. "Louisa… I…"

Her hand touched mine. "Oh, Martin. This is so…"

I uncorked the bottle to great fizzing, poured out two glasses, holding one out to her. "If you would, ahem, care for champagne?"

Louisa wiped at her eyes. "Yes, Martin. Thank you. But you… don't drink… do you?"

I ducked my head. "I'll have a sip."

We clinked glasses and drank. I am no great connoisseur of wine or champagne but this was quite good – or at least not bad.

Louisa's eyes shone in the dimness. "Martin, thank you. I… I so wanted… things to be special."

I drank another sip. "Rather good, don't you think?"

She smiled. "Yes, rather good." Louisa put down her glass and scrunched across the covers to where I stood by the foot of the bed. "Care to come to bed now, husband?" She patted the sheets.

"I'll just move the tray…"

"Good idea, Martin." Louisa smiled once more. "That is an excellent idea," she said as she switched off the light.

I joined her under the covers and she hugged me eagerly burying her mouth on my neck.

In spite of being awkward, a stupid oaf and a difficult man, I had managed to do one thing right for once.