Chapter Twenty Six

It didn't take long after we got Harper home that we were on the horns of a dilemma—the surgery was going to be too small for a growing family to live in. For now, the baby was in a portable cot at the end of the bed to make nightly feedings more convenient. There was barely any room to walk around the room now, which made it tricky for Martin to get ready for work in the mornings without nearly braining himself on the low corner eaves of the ceiling.

After hearing his low hiss of an expletive for the fourth morning in a row as he hit his knuckles yet again on the wall, I said, "This isn't going to work, is it?"

He glanced up at me from examining his grazed knuckles. "What do you mean?" he answered, doing up the buttons of his shirt.

"Having Harper in here with us…it's just too tight a fit," I told him.

"It's fine," he said mildly. "Not ideal, but it's not forever. Once she's not waking so much at night, we'll move her into the nursery." He squeezed around the corner of the bed to retrieve his tie, banging his knee on the bedpost as he went. He let out a grunt of pain and another expletive.

"Martin, you're bashing yourself black and blue!" I exclaimed, laughing. "I think we should go ahead and move her in there now. It'll be good for you to get more sleep at night as well." Even though he didn't have to, he had been getting up every time it was time for a feed and bringing the baby to me in the bed. I think he secretly liked the feeling of participating in the process of feeding her.

He glanced at me in the mirror. "But what about you? That means you'll be up and down a lot more often, and you're still healing," he countered.

"I feel a lot better, almost back to normal," I said. "I think it will be fine. I don't mind getting up; it's only across the hall."

Martin straightened his tie and put on his jacket, giving himself a final look in the mirror. "All right, I'll take down the cot after surgery this evening." He came to my side of the bed and leaned down to kiss me. I moved my hand behind his head, running my fingers through the soft hair at the nape of his neck, and inhaled his clean, freshly-shaven scent. If it weren't for the fact that I had just given birth days before, and if I wasn't so exhausted, I would have loved to remove the clothes he had just so carefully put on and do some very naughty things to him.

Harper began to fuss in her cot, and Martin immediately bent to pick her up, putting her to his shoulder and patting her on the back. I loved watching him with her; it seemed incongruous that such a big man could be so gentle and tender with such a tiny little human. He carried her into the nursery to change her diaper and then brought her to me. "Here you are, young lady," he told her softly, "time for breakfast." I smiled up at him and caught his hand as he turned to go.

"Hmm?" he raised his eyebrows at me.

"You're such a good daddy," I said, and he blushed, smiling a little. He squeezed my hand and went downstairs to start his day.

As promised, Martin took down the cot while I cooked dinner that evening. When he was finished, he came to the kitchen and took the plates down from the cabinet, setting the table. "Can I do anything to help?" he asked.

"No thanks, it's almost finished," I told him, taking the fish out of the oven. He sat down while I put the bowls of vegetables and the baked fish on the table.

"It looks very good," Martin commented. He began to fill his plate. "How was your afternoon? Did you get some rest while Harper was napping?"

"A little," I nodded, "but, I have to admit, I spent a lot of time just holding her…I just can't stop looking at her, she's so precious." I grinned at him.

Martin smirked. "She's never going to learn to self-soothe if you never put her down," he admonished. "You're going to spoil her."

I took a bite of fish, shrugging. "Babies are meant to be spoiled," I answered. "Anyway, I don't think it will do her a bit of harm."

"Mmm," was my husband's skeptical reply. I made a face.

"I've had a call from Joan's solicitor," he changed the subject. "It looks like the farm officially belongs to us now…I'm going to have to hire someone to be the caretaker until we decide what we are going to do with it."

I raised my eyebrows at him. "I thought we decided that selling it would be the best thing," I said.

He sighed. "Yes, that would be the ideal decision," he agreed, "but we both know that the limited living space here in the surgery is becoming a problem already."

"Are you suggesting we move to the farm?" I asked, surprised.

He took a bite of his dinner and chewed thoughtfully. "Not necessarily. I wanted to hear your thoughts on the subject. I don't want to make any decisions without consulting you first…this concerns both of us now that we're married."

"Well," I said slowly, "there's certainly plenty of room there…Harper would have a bigger bedroom, and lots of outdoor space to play."

"Yes," he agreed.

"I would have more space to put a piano, and there would even be a place for you to have a proper office…but Martin, it's so far from the village…you would be on the road all the time, back and forth to the surgery and for emergency calls."

"Yes."

I sighed. "And it would be so much upkeep…we'd have to get rid of the animals, of course, but there is still so much land to take care of…" I shook my head.

"My thoughts exactly," Martin said.

"So we are in agreement that living at the farm isn't the solution to our space problem," I finished. He nodded.

"I will call an estate agent tomorrow and start the process of putting it up for sale," he said brusquely. He sat back in his chair, his brow furrowed. "That's one problem sorted."

I reached across the table and took his hand. "Are you sure you're okay with it?" I asked him. He looked at me blankly.

"Of course…why wouldn't I be?" he replied.

"Well, I know it must hold some sentimental value to you…you have fond memories of being there as a child," I said.

"Yes, I do…probably the only actual fond memories I have from my childhood." He took a drink of water and swallowed before he went on. "But I don't see that as any reason to hold on to the farm when it isn't the practical thing to do. I would much rather focus on our future as a family and finding a suitable house for us."

I smiled at him. "That's what I want, too," I told him sincerely. "I love the sound of that, actually."

He looked pleased. "Good. Then while I speak to the estate agent about the farm, I will let them know we are in the market for a new house as well."

"Preferably something in the village, or close to it," I added. "And it would be nice to have at least a small garden…and room for a piano. And now that I'm saying all this, it sounds like quite a tall order," I laughed.

"Well, we're not really in any hurry. We can take our time to find something that has all the amenities we are looking for," Martin said.

We cleaned up the kitchen together, and when everything was tidy again, I turned to him and put my arms around his neck, standing on tiptoe to kiss him. He pulled me close and cupped my cheek with his palm, and I hummed my approval against his lips.

"How did I manage to land a husband that's such a good kisser?" I commented when we broke apart.

"Oh, don't be silly," he grumbled, a blush creeping up his neck. I laughed and kissed him again, nipping playfully at his bottom lip. "And let's not start something we can't finish…it's not even been a week since you gave birth, you know."

I took his hand and pulled him toward the kitchen door. "Ah, but there's quite a lot of fun stuff we can still do…" I said suggestively. "Come upstairs with me and I'll show you…"