Chapter Sixteen

We ended up with twelve chickenpox cases in total, ten in children and two in adults, but by the middle of June we had seen the back of the outbreak. Dr. Lowe had stayed on for a few extra days, but wasn't really needed after that. It wasn't the last we saw of him, though; he and Louisa were out quite a lot together around the village that spring. He absolutely adored her, and she was happier than I had ever seen her. I wouldn't have been surprised if we heard about their engagement soon.

We only had one more month to go before our wedding, and we had still managed to keep our plans under wraps. We had a lot of people in the village asking us when we would finally set a date. Martin only told them to mind their own business (of course), but I tried to keep it as vague as possible, using my family and travel plans as an excuse.

"If one more person asks me when we are getting married, I think I'm going to scream," I exclaimed, collapsing into a kitchen chair. In the five minutes it took to walk from the grocer's to the surgery, it had been mentioned by two different people along the way. "We're going to have to come up with something to tell them."

"We don't have to tell anyone anything," Martin replied mildly. "It has nothing to do with them."

"I told you, they are all expecting to come to the wedding…and since you are the village doctor, it stands to reason, I suppose."

"No, it doesn't."

I sighed. "All right, I have an idea," I said. "Remember when we talked about having a reception for everyone, after the wedding? That way they will feel like they were part of it?"

"Vaguely." Martin continued to put away the groceries I had brought home.

"Well why don't we go ahead and plan it, but tell everyone it will be an engagement party? Maybe that would appease the restless natives for a while."

He thought for a minute. "I suppose if we have to do something, that's as good an idea as any."

I raised an eyebrow at him. "Thank you for your support," I said, a bit sarcastically.

"You're welcome. But are you going to be able to handle planning the wedding and the reception too? You really shouldn't be taking on so much."

"I'm going to call Joan and ask her if she knows anyone that does catering."

When I called Joan, all she said was, "you leave it to me." She ended up recruiting a group of her friends to coordinate the whole event. She planned to cook some of the food herself, but delegated the flowers and other details. When I asked her about it, she told me not to worry, that everything would be perfect on the day. I would have been perfectly fine hiring someone, but she wouldn't hear of it.

I wasn't sure I liked that Joan was taking on so much responsibility with planning the reception. She had seemed a little frail lately, with a knee that had begun to bother her, and Martin had unfortunately just diagnosed her with osteoporosis. She insisted she was fine and not to fuss over her; I just hoped she wasn't overdoing it.

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And just like that, I found I was 26 weeks along in my pregnancy. Although everything had gone perfectly so far, I couldn't shake the constant anxiety I felt about it. I was this far along when I had given birth to my first baby, and it had been much too soon. I woke up the morning of my 26th week and almost immediately burst into tears.

"What is it? What's the matter?" Martin asked anxiously, after my sobs woke him. "Anna, are you ill?"

"Today is the day," I said through my tears. "I'm 26 weeks today."

He pulled me into his arms and allowed me to cry, his hand stroking my belly. "Shh…it's all right," he whispered. "That's not going to happen this time, Anna."

"But how do you know?" I sobbed.

"Because the scans have all been perfect," he said, "and you are in perfect health. Your last check-up showed that everything is just as it should be. Everything is going to be fine."

Deep down I knew he was right, though there was a little part of me that waited on pins and needles for something bad to happen. I hated the constant, low-level anxiety that followed me everywhere, but nothing was going to cure it but time. Every new morning would be another day this baby stayed put, so I tried to stay calm and be grateful for every day.

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If anyone hadn't heard by now from Mrs. Tishell that I was pregnant, there was no denying it now…I already felt enormous, and I still had three months to go. My feelings of hugeness were confirmed by four year old Daisy Stephens one morning at the surgery. She had come in with her mother, Karina, and had shyly approached me behind the reception desk.

"Anna…why has your tummy gone all round and big?" she asked me.

"Daisy! That's very rude!" Karina looked appalled.

I laughed. "It is very round, isn't it? That's because there's a baby growing in there." Daisy's eyes widened.

"Really?" she asked. "A baby?" She seemed pretty skeptical.

"Yup. And if you put your hand just here, you can feel it moving around…" She dutifully placed her hand in the spot where the little bugger was kicking furiously. She gasped.

"WEIRD!" she exclaimed.

"I know! Isn't it?" I laughed.

"But how did that baby get in there?" Karina and I glanced at each other, and she shook her head while covering her eyes with one hand, trying not to laugh out loud.

"Wellll…" I stalled. ""Well…um…Doctor Ellingham gave me a little something that went into my body and mixed with a little part of me and the baby started to grow there." There. That was the basic idea, wasn't it? I thought I had handled the question very well. Not too graphic…not too many sordid details…

Daisy thought a minute, and then her eyes lit up. "Mummy!" she said excitedly. "Why don't you ask Dr. Ellingdum if he will give you something so you can have a baby too?"

Whoops. Maybe my explanation wasn't so great after all. I could feel my cheeks heating up with embarrassment, and both Karina and I were in tears from suppressed laughter.

"No, darling…that's something that Dr. Ellingham could only give to Anna." That seemed to appease the curious Daisy, but it caused me to have to run to the loo before I legitimately wet my pants.

After they had gone, Martin came out to the waiting area. "What on earth did you tell that child?" he asked, irritated.

I groaned. "Why?" I asked warily.

"She asked me if I would give to her mother what I gave you so she could have a baby!" he exclaimed, and I groaned again. I told him about our conversation, and his eyes grew round.

"You should have told her to stop asking so many questions," Martin grumbled.

"Martin! She's four years old!" I laughed. "Weren't you curious when you were four years old?"

He opened his mouth to speak, and closed it again. "Well…not about that!"