Chapter Twenty Three

After the funeral service was over and I had spoken to most of the guests, I went outside to see if I could find Martin, but his car wasn't there. As I stood there trying to decide if I should call him to come back and pick me up, Bert Large came up to stand beside me.

"Looks like you've been left high and dry," he commented, chuckling.

"Yes…" I answered absentmindedly.

"Here, let me drive you back into town," he offered. "No trouble at all."

"Oh, thank you; that's very kind of you."

"Your song was just lovely, Anna," he said after we had gotten in the van. "Joanie would have loved it."

I patted him on the arm. "Thank you for saying that, Bert," I replied. "I hope so."

"Where was the Doc off to in such a hurry?"

"I don't know…I think he was a little overwhelmed. This has been hard on him."

"I shouldn't wonder…he was like a son to Joan."

"Yes, he was. I know he's going to miss her terribly. We both are," I said. My heart felt very heavy, and I could feel a tear slip down my cheek. I didn't want to cry in front of Bert... I just needed to find Martin. I was relieved to see his car parked in the usual spot beside the surgery, and I thanked Bert for the ride.

"You just tell the Doc we are all thinking about him," he said, waving as he drove down the narrow street.

I let myself into the side door and walked into the kitchen. Everything looked as it did when we had left that morning. I went down the hall to check the consulting room, but the door was open and Martin wasn't sitting at his desk. I climbed the stairs slowly, and that's when I heard a sound coming from the bedroom.

Martin was sitting on the edge of the bed, his hands over his face as he tried to muffle the sobs that emitted from what seemed like his very soul. I quickly kneeled down in front of him and cradled his head in my arms as he cried.

"Shh…I know," I murmured, stroking his hair. His whole body was literally shaking.

"I should have…" he sobbed.

"Hush, love."

"No, I should have told her. I should have thanked her for all the things she did for me growing up…she was the only one who ever…" his voice broke.

"She knew how much you loved her, what she meant to you. She knew, Martin." I held him close, my hand rubbing up and down his back, as if soothing a small child. "You never have to worry about that."

"I hate this!" he cried vehemently. "I have this horrible sick feeling in my chest and I hate it. And I just can't seem to stop crying…I'm sorry, Anna…"

"Martin, there's nothing to be sorry about!" I told him firmly, looking into his eyes. "You're grieving, and all these emotions are perfectly normal. You don't have to be sorry for feeling them…it is your right to feel them. You loved Joan like she was your own mother; of course you should cry for her. It's okay."

My knees were starting to protest from being on the floor. I got up and moved to the bed with my back against the headboard, and Martin came to sit beside me, his arms around me like a drowning man. I kissed his face, tasting his tears on my tongue, trying to absorb some of his pain into my own heart so he wouldn't have to feel it so keenly. I loved him all the more in this vulnerable state, when his emotions were so raw and exposed; I just wished there was more I could do to help him.

Slowly, Martin's tears subsided and he was able to catch his breath again. I went to the bathroom and came back with a cool cloth for his face, folding it and placing it on his forehead. After a few more minutes, he finally took one giant, ragged breath, and seemed to start to come back into himself. "I have never cried like that in my entire life," he said softly.

"Well, then it sounds to me like you were long overdue," I replied, smiling a little. I kissed his lips gently. "How do you feel now?"

"I don't know. Exhausted. Empty."

"That's to be expected. Catharsis will do that to a person," I agreed.

He looked at me uncomfortably. "I also feel…embarrassed. It's appalling, the way I have..." he sounded angry with himself. "I've never…that is, I'm not used to…"

"Martin, there's nothing to be embarrassed about," I told him gently. "It's just you and me here…you never have to feel embarrassed about showing your feelings around me. I'm your wife now, and I vowed to always love and comfort you, remember?"

"I don't know what I would do if you weren't here." He reached out and tucked my hair behind my ear. "I mean that."

"Well luckily, you won't ever have to worry about that," I said, taking his face in my hands and kissing him. "Because you're stuck with me."

I coaxed Martin into the shower, and even though it was only early evening, I made him get into his pajamas and get into bed. I made a light supper and brought it up to him on a tray, despite his protests. "I'm not an invalid, Anna, I am perfectly capable of coming downstairs to the kitchen."

"I know you are, but it's too late now, I'm already up here," I answered, taking a bite of my soup. "Besides, you've had a very stressful day and I want to take care of you."

When we were finished, I cleaned up downstairs and then went up to join him again, changing into my pajamas even though it was still light outside. I climbed into bed next to him, and he pulled me close, his hand on my belly. The baby kicked and flipped, feeling like a fish inside a too-small fishbowl. I winced when a little foot hit my rib. "It's getting crowded in there," I commented. "It won't be long now…can you believe we are going to have a baby in about six weeks?"

"Mmm."

"We are going to have to start thinking about what we are going to call her. Or him," I added. We had decided we wanted the gender to be a surprise, but I had to admit, knowing ahead of time would have made choosing a name a lot easier.

"Yes, I suppose so," he agreed.

We both got quiet after that, lost in our own thoughts, and I was just drifting off to sleep when Martin murmured, "Do you think we could…" he stopped.

"We could what?" I replied sleepily.

"I was thinking maybe…that is to say, if the baby is a girl…we could use Joan as her middle name? If it's all right with you, of course," he said shyly.

I rolled over to look at him, tears in my eyes. "I think that would be perfect."