A/N: I had this chapter finished last night, but it was just too late for me to stay up and do the final read through and edit. So instead of waiting until Sunday I decided to just post it today. What I thought was going to be a short 4,000 word chapter ended up being over 7,000. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it and thank you in advance for all your comments and encouragement!

Chapter Forty-nine

Word had spread fast regarding Louisa's pregnancy. By the end of the week it was the sole topic of conversation amongst the villagers of Portwenn. Unlike the first pregnancy between the Doc and Louisa, many residents expressed their congratulations and well-wishes on to the expecting couple. The usual group of teenagers who roamed the streets of Portwenn in packs couldn't help but laugh and giggle whenever the Doc or Louisa passed them by, calling out lewd and garish remarks that often made Martin's blood boil. It was easy to ignore being called a tosser, but when petty and sexual comments were pointed towards his wife, Martin felt it was much more difficult to disregard. One such occasion had occurred that very week when he and Louisa were walking back to the school after having lunch together at home.

"Oooohh!" came the usual giggling and catcalling of one of Portwenn's well-known group of gossiping teenagers.

Martin and Louisa had slowed their pace as the group of girls were walking towards them in the opposite direction up the street.

"That was fast, huh, Doc?!" said one of the girls. "Forget what a condom is?!" was soon followed by another. But it was the final comment that made Martin snap: "I bet it isn't even his! I hear she's taken up with one of the male teachers—the one who goes running all the time!"

"Shut-up!" Martin sneered, stopping dead in his tracks to give the group of girls a threatening look.

"Martin . . ." Louisa said, placing a hand on his upper arm to try and calm him down.

"No." He raised one of his hands to keep her behind him. "I can ignore the usual insults," he continued, turning his attention back to the group of girls. "But when you disrespect my wife and my family, that's not something I can easily dismiss. I mean, what do you gain from heckling me and every other resident in this village?" He gestured with a wave of his arm at the girls. "Surely all of you must have better things to do with your time than spread senseless gossip?" He jabbed his index finger down at the ground to emphasize his final point. "This has gone on long enough. Since day one I've been ridiculed, and I won't stand for it any longer."

Most of the girls remained silent as they listened to the local doctor, staring down at the ground in shame. "We're just havin' a bit of fun, Doc," said the tallest girl, presumably the one whom everyone else followed. "We don't mean any real harm by it."

"Well did it ever occur to you that the obscene comments you prattle out could be unkind and hurtful to those who hear them? For heaven's sake, I'm a grown man. I don't need to be bullied by a group of girls who are practically adults."

Louisa, who had remained quiet throughout Martin's declamation, felt some of the heaviness that had settled over her stomach lift free. Though there was no truth in the girl's claim over the paternity of her unborn child, it still sent a wave of hurt and humiliation to course through her. But Martin did what he always did in situations like these. He stood up for her, not only for her reputation as head of the primary school, but as someone whom he loved and cared for deeply; similar to how she would defend his honor as a respected and accomplished physician to those who constantly berated him for his lack of social skills and bedside manner, as well as for the phobia that prevented him from being the great surgeon she knew him to be. She tugged gently on the cuff of his suit, wanting to put the unpleasantness of the situation behind them so they could continue on with their day.

Martin turned his head briefly to look at her. Her eyes pleaded with him to let the confrontation go. It had taken nearly six years for him to build up the courage to stand up to these insolent teenage girls, but it took strength to walk away from a fight he knew he wouldn't be able to win. He gave her a slight nod of his head before turning back to face the group of girls. "I don't want to hear anything disrespectful from either one of you again," he said, gesturing across the group with his finger. "Towards me, my family, or anybody else, understood?"

Most of the girls nodded, but a few still seemed to be amused by the situation. "We're sorry, Doc, Louisa," a few of them chorused together.

"Thank you," Martin said, now feeling as if a huge obstacle had finally been cleared.

The two continued on their way towards the school, passing the pharmacy where they both noticed that the Closed sign had been placed in the window of the front door. Martin briefly glanced back, wondering why Mrs. Tishell would close her shop so early in the day in the middle of the week. "That's rather odd?" he commented.

"What is?" Louisa said, having taken hold of Martin's hand after parting ways with the pack of heckling girls.

"Mrs. Tishell closing the pharmacy."

She turned to look up at him as they walked. "Well, you know how she is sometimes. Perhaps she heard something that upset her."

Martin furrowed his brow in confusion. "Like what?"

"Maybe it's the fact that I'm pregnant, Martin. I mean, she wasn't exactly happy the first time I was expecting."

"I think the first time was quite a shock to everyone, Louisa."

Their eyes met and she gave his hand a gentle squeeze. "I know. And I'm sorry. But whatever Mrs. Tishell may think, I'm not going to let it bother me. In fact, I'm quite relieved that the entire village knows."

"Why?"

"Because I feel like I don't have to worry about keeping the pregnancy a secret anymore. I don't care what everyone else thinks. I just want you and I to be happy."

He glanced down at their joined hands. "Yes."

Louisa smiled. "Just don't think you have to be the one to speak to Mrs. Tishell if she's upset."

"Perhaps I should? I mean, she's an integral part of my work, Louisa. Without her, patients can't get their prescriptions and I can't order certain supplies—"

Louisa stopped them in the middle of the street, just outside one of the organic greengrocers not too far from the pharmacy. "But, Martin, Mrs. Tishell has her own husband to talk to." She waved her free hand in a circle. "What if she becomes attached to you again—or delusional? I don't want her running off with our child again."

Martin shook his head. "Louisa, Mrs. Tishell has gone through and completed a full psychological and psychiatric evaluation. The chances of her taking James away again is slim at best. She's probably just going through some minor depression. As the sole physician of this village I should at least check in on her."

Louisa let out an exasperated breath. "Fine, Martin. Speak to Mrs. Tishell. But I'm not going to be the one to call Joe and your aunt if our son ends up missing from nursery school."

"I think the school has fairly strict rules. I don't believe she'd be able to take James, let alone pick him up if—"

She shook her head vehemently, stopping his train of thought. "The point is that she could become unstable again. I won't go through what happened last year again, Martin."

He could see how serious she was by the slight dilation of her pupils and the tautness of her facial muscles. He too had found the whole situation with James and Mrs. Tishell to be nerve-wracking. At the time he had thought she was the most qualified individual to look after his son for a few hours, but never did he believe that Mrs. Tishell would be mad enough to run away with an infant. Granted, Martin had been oblivious to the signs and changes of the woman's obsessive and delusional behavior towards him. But he promised himself, as well as for Louisa and James, that he would not make the same mistake twice. "I know," he said, turning his attention back to his wife. "I don't either. Which is why I think, as her doctor, that I should at least check in on how she's doing. And if something is wrong, she can get the help she needs before it's too late. I have a duty of care—"

"I know, Martin." Louisa let out a deep sigh. "I just . . . Ever since you and I have been together, I've felt . . . I don't know . . . intimidated, I guess. I mean, in a way you and Mrs. Tishell work together, and I suppose I've always felt somewhat jealous by that." She reached up to push her bangs off to the side, shaking her head. "I'm being silly. I don't know why I said that."

"No," Martin replied quickly. "I mean . . ." He was unsure of how to phrase what he wanted to say. "You know, you and I work together all the time, Louisa. Just because we don't share the same profession doesn't mean we're not compatible. Yes, Mrs. Tishell is a necessary part of my work as a GP, but you and our family . . ." He looked down and shyly reached for her other hand. "We're a partnership that Mrs. Tishell and I could never have." He glanced back up to meet her gaze. "Since the day we met, I've only ever wanted to be with you."

Louisa could feel her heart fluttering in her chest. "I think that's one of the sweetest things you've ever said to me, Martin." She smiled through the tears that had formed in the corner of her eyes. He let go of her hand briefly so she could wipe the moisture from her cheeks.

"Mm. You're welcome."

She let out a short laugh. "I love you," she said, her face turning serious.

His voice came out thick in reply, "I know."

"And thank you . . . for standing up for me in front of those girls."

"I thought it had gone on long enough."

Still keeping hold of one of his hands, Louisa steered them back in the direction of the school. "So are you going to do it?" she asked, after a few minutes of silence had passed.

Martin turned his head to face her. "Do what?"

"Speak to Mrs. Tishell?"

He let out a long breath through his nose. "I think it's for the best, don't you?"

She lightly squeezed his hand as they neared the painted blue gate of the school, thinking back to what he had said earlier. "If it means preventing another kidnapping then, yes, I suppose it's for the best."

Martin glanced down at his watch. "It shouldn't take too long. I'll stop in on my way back to the surgery."

"Just use your best judgement," Louisa said as they stopped just inside the gate where a small group of construction workers were removing a large section of the pavement in the far corner near the front of the school.

"Yes, I will," he replied, needing to raise his voice so he could be heard over the loud drilling and hammering coming from the construction crew. "Are they repaving?"

"What?!"

"I said, are they repaving the entryway?!" He pointed at the source of all the noise.

Louisa turned around. "No! That's where the new gym equipment is going to be installed! Instead of the pavement we're filling in the area with ground up pieces of rubber so it's a bit safer! The playground should be completely finished by Friday!"

Martin nodded, moving so he was on the opposite side of the gate. "I should be going!"

"What?!"

He lifted his left arm and pointed at the face of his watch.

"Right, yes! I'll see you later!" Louisa leaned up towards him over the gate, Martin bending forward, where they met each other halfway in a quick but gentle kiss. "We can talk about how your visit with Mrs. Tishell went later!"

"Yes!" He stayed frozen in place for a few moments, watching as his wife made her way towards the front entrance of the school, mesmerized by the sway of her hips and the swish of her ponytail. She had been wearing one of her signature collared dresses, a dark green fabric patterned with miniature white and red flowers. But soon the rattling and deafening noise of the construction equipment pulled him out of his trance. He turned away from the gate and headed back in the direction of the pharmacy.

As he approached the shop a few minutes later, Martin peered in through the windows of the front door. He tried turning the brass door handle, but found it to be locked. He rapped hard on the square pane of glass with the knuckles of his right hand. "Mrs. Tishell!" he shouted, hoping she was somewhere inside where she could hear him. But no answer came. Again, he tried knocking and shouting her name, but still no one answered. He turned, ready to give up and go back to the surgery, when he heard the lock of the front door click open, followed by the overhead clang of a bell.

"Doc," came the energetic voice of Clive Tishell.

Martin turned back around, seeing that the front door was now wide open. "I, um, noticed that you were closed and thought I'd see if Mrs. Tishell was in."

"Thank goodness you're here, Doc," Clive said, stepping aside so the doctor could enter. "Something's wrong with Sal."

Martin's eyes widened. "Is she hurt?!" he exclaimed, wishing that he had his medical bag with him.

Clive shook his head. "No, she's not hurt. She just keeps cooking. I should feel like a lucky man—and I do, but she never stops. All hours of the day she's either stirring something on the hob or putting something else in the oven. I don't know what's come over her." He had started up the staircase that was situated behind the wall where the front counter was.

Martin followed him upstairs to where the Tishells lived. Upon entering the flat, Martin could smell something sweet and fruity baking in the oven. Clive moved ahead towards the kitchen, where the voice of Mrs. Tishell could be heard singing and humming. "Sal, you have a visitor," he could hear Clive saying. "The Doc's stopped by to see you." Then suddenly a loud, metallic bang! and a crash! echoed through to the adjacent front living room where Martin was waiting, followed by a flustered Mrs. Tishell muttering something he couldn't quite understand. "He's just here to help, Sal," Clive continued.

"No!" Mrs. Tishell fired back. "I don't want to see him!"

"Please, Sal—ow!"

"I said, no! Oh, how could you do this, Clive?!"

"But, Sal—"

"Oh, nevermind! Useless, you are!"

After listening to quite enough of the Tishells' back and forth banter, Martin thought it was best that he intervene before someone actually did get hurt. Upon entering the small kitchen, he saw Mr. and Mrs. Tishell facing one another in the center of the room. Mrs. Tishell, who had a pink apron covering her pastel-colored blouse and skirt, was yielding a long wooden spoon, poised directly at her husband. "Mrs. Tishell," Martin said, trying to keep his tone low and soft so as not to startle her.

Abruptly, she flicked her head to the side to face him, her eyes widening in surprise. "D-Doctor Ellingham?!" she sputtered. "What-what are you doing here?"

Martin held up one of his hands as a defense against the wooden spoon she was holding, still pointed, unfortunately, at Clive. "You closed the pharmacy. That's quite unlike you. So I thought I might stop by to see if you were all right."

Mrs. Tishell looked confused. "You came to see me?"

Martin slowly inched closer. "Yes. Do you know what day of the week it is?"

She remained silent for a moment. "It's Wednesday," she answered, drawing out each syllable as if she had to convince herself she was correct.

"That's right. Now why don't you put down that spoon before someone gets hurt?"

Mrs. Tishell slowly lowered the wooden spoon to her side. "I . . ." she began to say, but was interrupted by an electronic timer going off. "Oh, my pie!" Throwing up her hands, nearly hitting Clive's right shoulder with the wooden spoon, Mrs. Tishell moved towards the oven. "Do you like gooseberry pie, Doctor Ellingham?" she asked, removing the pie dish and setting it on a cooling rack on the counter.

"Um, no," Martin replied, looking away when she bent over to close the oven door.

"You'll like my recipe. It's been handed down for five generations."

"Mrs. Tishell, I don't eat pie—"

"Oh, Doctor Ellingham how could you?!" she cried out, throwing off her pair of oven mitts.

Martin straightened his back, somewhat startled by her sudden outburst. "I beg your pardon?"

Mrs. Tishell stared back at the doctor with a hard and disappointed look. "Louisa's . . ." She paused to take in a deep breath. ". . . pregnant."

Martin let his chin drop to his chest. "Mm. Yes," he said, clearing his throat. "You've heard."

"Of course I heard!" Mrs. Tishell exclaimed. "There's nothing in this village that I don't know about!"

"Mrs. Tishell—"

"Sal?" Clive interrupted, taking a step closer to his wife. "Is that what this is all about?"

Mrs. Tishell glanced first towards her husband then back to Martin. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"All the cooking?" Clive continued. "You've been at it all day, Sal."

"No, I haven't." Mrs. Tishell clenched one of her hands into a fist at her side.

"Mrs. Tishell . . ." Once again, Martin tried calming her, but it didn't seem to be working.

"You can't," she said, shaking her head vehemently. "Not with her." She took two leaping strides towards the doctor, grabbing hold of his upper arms. "We have a connection, Doc," she whispered, hoping not to be overheard by Clive. "I've waited and waited. Don't you remember? You said you loved me . . . back at The Castle."

She reached up with one hand to touch his cheek, but Martin intercepted her movements, taking hold of her wrist and gently pulling it away. "Have you been taking any medication?" he asked, studying the pupillary response of her eyes.

"Of course not," Mrs. Tishell replied, sounding offended.

Martin glanced over at Clive, who was still standing in the middle of the kitchen watching them. "Mr. Tishell, do you think you could give your wife and I a few minutes to speak in private?"

Clive remained silent for a moment, remembering the certain attachment his wife had for the surly doctor. "I don't know, Doc."

"I'd just like to ask her some questions—as a patient of mine," Martin explained.

Clive looked to his wife and nodded once. "I'll just go down and finish that stocktaking you wanted done," he said, gesturing with a finger towards the front door.

"Now, Mrs. Tishell," Martin began, once Clive had left, "why don't you sit down and I'll get you a glass of water?"

Mrs. Tishell slowly lowered herself into a chair at the dining room table just a few paces from the kitchen. "I'm not crazy," she said, reaching up to adjust the back of her white cervical collar.

Martin returned with a full glass of water. "I didn't say you were."

"Aren't you going to sit down?"

He clasped his hands behind his back. "Thank you, but I'd rather stand." Both were quiet for a few minutes as he watched Mrs. Tishell slowly drink from her glass of water. Other than her usual behavior, he didn't see anything to suggest that she was mentally unsound. "About what you said earlier," Martin said, "you have to understand, Mrs. Tishell, that I have no romantic intentions towards you whatsoever."

"But, Doctor Ellingham, I remember what you said to me that day at The Castle."

Martin tightened the grip he had on his hands, which were still clasped neatly behind his back. "They were meant for Louisa—my wife. And I won't stand for any of the animosity you showed her the first time she was pregnant."

"You weren't exactly considerate to her either."

Martin narrowed his eyes at the pharmacist. "That was then. I've learned not to make the same mistake twice."

"If you didn't mean them for me, then why did you say it?"

"Because you ran away with my son, who was an infant. You were heavily medicated. Are you aware of the damage you could have caused?"

Mrs. Tishell looked down at the table. "Yes. And I apologized—I do apologize." She glanced back up at him and sniffled. "We were always close. I suppose I thought that one day you and I could be together." Her voice changed to a more desperate tone, "Please, Doc, believe me in that I had no intention of harming little James. It's just . . . when I heard that Louisa was pregnant again . . . the memories of what I thought we shared just seemed to overwhelm me." Instinctively, Mrs. Tishell reached for her bare left wrist to pull on the rubber band she had used as a psychological reinforcement for whenever she harbored negative thoughts.

Martin relaxed a little after she spoke, loosening his shoulders and spine. "I see."

"Please don't send me away again?" she said, standing up from her chair.

"Unless you need help, no one is going to send you away. There are plenty of people in this village who count on you, Mrs. Tishell. Including me."

Mrs. Tishell reached up to swipe away a tear at the corner of her left eye. "Really?"

"Mm. So why don't you reopen the pharmacy?"

Mrs. Tishell nodded, and just as the doctor was about to turn and leave, she stopped him. "Are you happy?"

Martin angled his head to the side. "What?"

"About the baby," she said, fidgeting with her hands. "Are you happy?"

He cleared his throat. "Yes. Louisa and I are relatively pleased with the outcome."

Mrs. Tishell breathed in through her nose, somewhat at peace with his answer. "Would you like a slice of pie to take home?" she offered, moving back into the kitchen.

"I don't like pie."

"Please, I insist," she continued. "It's the least I could do."

Martin sighed, feeling as if he had no other choice but to accept. He curled his lip once she handed him a recyclable takeaway box containing the slice of pie.

"Do let me know what you think," Mrs. Tishell said, tapping the top of the box with her finger.

"Mm. Right." He quickly turned and left the flat, not wanting to be pulled back into conversation with the oddity that was Mrs. Tishell.

"Goodbye, Doctor Ellingham!" she shouted after him. "Come back soon!"

After exiting the pharmacy entirely, Martin made his way towards Roscarrock Hill back to the surgery, stopping briefly along the way to dispose of the slice of pie Mrs. Tishell had given him, box and all, into one of the many rubbish bins situated on the side of the street.

. . .

By the time the weekend rolled around, no one was more excited than James Henry. He was to have his first play date with his friend from nursery school. When Louisa had told him that he would get to spend Saturday afternoon at Owen's house, James had jumped and clapped excitedly. Given his limited vocabulary, for several days it was all he could talk about. Martin, on the other hand, was less than enthused.

"Is this all you want to bring?" Louisa asked her son as they were gathering the toys he wanted to bring with him. From his knapsack she pulled out the square container of his favorite set of building blocks.

James nodded. "Yes."

"You don't want your pirate guys or your dinosaurs?" She held up a pair of the plastic figurines.

The toddler shook his head. "No, thank you."

Louisa smiled. "Well I'm going to pack them just in case, alright?"

"Okay, Mummy."

After zipping James's knapsack, Louisa picked herself up from the floor, letting out a quiet grunt as she did so. She stepped up into the kitchen where Martin was gathering and packing the food he prepared for the outdoor picnic they had planned. "Everything looks good," she said, her eyes scanning the many containers of food. "Is there any chocolate?"

Martin looked up at her with a crinkled brow. "No, of course not."

Louisa rolled her eyes. "Just one tiny piece of chocolate, Martin, that's all I ask."

He let out a deep sigh as he watched her remove the small bag of individually wrapped chocolates she had hidden on the shelf above the washing machine. "You know those are just empty calories," he pointed out.

"Yes. But these are dark chocolates. A good source of antioxidants, rich in iron, copper, magnesium, zinc, and . . ." She tapped the palm of her hand, trying to remember the final component. "Ah, flavanols, which, by the way, can help lower blood pressure."

Martin angled his head to the side. "Did you memorize all that just for this one occasion?"

Louisa unwrapped one of the chocolates and popped it in her mouth. "I did."

"I'm assuming you found it all on the internet?"

"Maybe."

"I see. Though dark chocolate does contain more caffeine than other types of chocolate."

"I'm only bringing one piece, Martin." Louisa stowed a wrapped chocolate in one of the containers. "Well, including the one I just ate."

"Right," Martin said, closing and latching the stocked hamper. "Can we go now?"

"Uh, yes. James," Louisa called out. "Time to go."

"O-en and I have fun!" the toddler said as he ran up to the front door, his knapsack secured to his back, waiting for his parents. "Go, go!"

Louisa smiled down at her son as she pulled on her thin, bright yellow jacket, just in case it was a bit chilly while they had their picnic. "Don't you want a coat, Martin? It might be chilly."

"No, my suit's warm enough," he said, looking down at his grey suit and blue tie.

The Ellinghams arrived at the Bradbury residence just after half past one. They lived above the heart of the village just off the main road that had a splendid view of the ocean and coastline. And if one looked closely enough, down below the surgery could just be visible from across the harbor.

"Do you know anything about these people, Louisa?" Martin said as they exited the Lexus.

"Not much. I mean, I haven't exactly had the time to get to know them yet."

"And we're supposed to trust them to look after James?"

Louisa let out an exasperated sigh. "Martin, James will be fine, won't you, sweetie?"

James looked up at his mother as they walked up the footpath to the front door. "Yes!"

"See." She rang the doorbell and a moment later a woman with dark blonde hair, who looked about the same age as Louisa, opened the door.

"Louisa!" the woman exclaimed, leaning over for an awkward hug. "So great to see you again! And you must be James," she continued, looking down at the toddler.

James hid his face in the skirt of his mother's dress. "He's just a bit shy around new faces," Louisa explained.

"I was the same way when I was a kid." Stephanie turned around to call for her son. "Owen, your friend James is here!"

In a matter of moments a little boy with light brown hair came bounding down the hallway towards the doorway. "James!" he cried out, instantly reaching out for his friend's arm.

James's shyness quickly disappeared upon seeing his friend. "O-en!"

"Why don't the two of you go on inside? Owen, you'll show James around?"

"Okay. C'mon, James." The two boys rushed inside towards the stairs.

Louisa smiled at the scene, happy to see her son growing more comfortable around other children. "Stephanie, this is my husband, Martin," she said, almost forgetting that he was standing behind her. "I don't know if the two of you have met before."

Stephanie held out her hand, which the doctor reluctantly took. "I don't believe so, no. Do you prefer Doctor Ellingham, or can I call you Martin?"

"Doctor Ellingham is fine," Martin said, dropping the woman's hand while clearing his throat.

"Would the two of you like to come in for a few minutes?" Stephanie asked. "My husband Steve is out back with our eldest, Bradley. They're kicking around a football I think."

"That would be great," Louisa said.

Martin turned to look at his wife with a narrowed gaze.

"It'll only be for a few minutes," she whispered back.

As the two followed Stephanie inside, Martin was relatively impressed by the tidiness of the home, more so, considering the Bradbury's had two active, young boys. While entering the kitchen, he could hear a dog barking just outside the sliding glass door that led to the back garden.

"You have a dog," Martin commented as he and Louisa gathered around the center island.

"Yes, we do," Stephanie replied. "Rocket. He's a four year-old border collie." She chuckled. "Bradley was really into space and rockets when we first got him. Your son doesn't have a dog allergy, does he?"

"No, no," Louisa said. "It's just that Martin's a stickler for health and germs."

"Does your dog have regular veterinary exams?" Martin asked.

"Yes."

"And your children have been properly vaccinated?"

"Martin . . ." Louisa admonished, feeling somewhat embarrassed by his rather personal line of questioning.

He turned to look at her. "Louisa, as a health professional and a parent, I'm only asking the most sensible of questions."

"I am a registered nurse, Doctor Ellingham," Stephanie explained. "So I think I'm fairly capable of handling anything, should something happen."

Martin straightened his back. "Really?"

Stephanie moved away towards the front entryway. "Yep." She showed Martin her hospital ID badge. "At the Royal Cornwall Hospital in Truro. Been there almost seven years now."

"Right."

"And have you always been a GP?"

"No." Martin hesitated for a moment, unsure if he wanted to explain his past. "I used to be a vascular surgeon at Imperial College in London."

Stephanie's eyes widened. "Wow, a London surgeon. You're quite a ways from home then. What made you want to move to Cornwall?"

Martin curled his fingers into the palms of his hands. "Personal reasons." She didn't need to know everything, least of all his hemophobia.

Stephanie nodded. "I'm sorry. Would either of you like something to drink? Tea, coffee, water?"

Louisa turned to face her husband, seeing that he looked rather uncomfortable. "That would be lovely, Stephanie, but Martin and I actually have a prior engagement we need to get to. Perhaps another time?"

"Oh, of course. And before you leave, does James have any food allergies that I should be aware of?"

"No, none that we know of," Martin said.

"When should I expect the two of you to be back to pick him up?"

Louisa glanced down at her wristwatch. "Maybe around five? Is that too late?"

Stephanie shook her head as she followed Martin and Louisa back to the front door. "No, no, that's perfect. We'll see you then. Great seeing you again, Louisa. And nice to finally meet you, Doctor Ellingham."

"Yes," Martin quickly replied as he and Louisa turned to walk back to the car.

"I'm impressed, Martin," Louisa said once they were both buckled into their seats. "For once you were actually sociable."

Martin turned the key in the ignition then shifted the car into reverse. "What do you mean for once?"

"I mean, you actually made an effort at small talk. I suppose it did help that you and Stephanie are both in the same line of work . . ."

"Mm."

Louisa turned to look at him as he pulled out onto the main street. "You feel more at ease at leaving James now, don't you?"

"Unless she's stolen someone else's identity who happens to be a nurse, then, yes, I suppose I feel a bit more comfortable leaving him for a few hours. And five o'clock? Really? What are we going to do for four hours, Louisa?"

"We'll think of something," she said, turning back to face the windscreen with a playful smile.

About ten minutes later, the Lexus pulled into the gravel drive of Portwenn Fishing Holidays. It had been Louisa's idea to have an outdoor picnic while James was with his friend, and so she thought it an even better idea to have it at Joan's farm. Al had given them a complimentary afternoon stay as an early gift for the baby.

"We have the whole afternoon to ourselves," Louisa said as she and Martin began their walk past the chicken coop to an open area of the fields close to the cliffs.

"Yes." They grew silent until Martin stopped them at the perfect spot. "After Uncle Phil had died, this is where Auntie Joan and I would sit when I came to visit her during the summers."

Louisa laid down the knit blanket they had brought along. "It's a lovely spot, Martin," she commented, looking out at the sparkling sea to where a sailboat was headed in the direction of the harbor. "You know you never talk about your Uncle Phil that much."

They settled themselves into a comfortable position on the blanket. "I wasn't as close with him as I was with Joan," Martin said, opening the hamper and removing the containers of food, plates, and cutlery.

"I'm sure he loved you just as much as Joan did."

"Mm. I think this one is yours." He handed her one of the containers.

"Yes, thank you."

While they dug into their food, a comfortable silence settled between them. Nothing needed to be said as they had the most perfect view of the Celtic Sea. There was a slight breeze, which ruffled the tall grass around them, but neither seemed bothered by it. Louisa had her canary-colored jacket on, choosing to leave it unzipped. And of course Martin was comfortable and content in his suit. It was definitely a lovely, spring afternoon, made even better without the sounds of children or moaning patients.

"I was, um, thinking about what you said the other day about our anniversary," Martin said, setting down his plate.

"Oh?" Louisa took one last bite of her chicken sandwich.

"Mm. I've done some research on the Isle of Mull. It reminds me a little of Portwenn; a sort of home away from home, you could say."

Louisa felt speechless. She didn't think he'd actually take her hint, let alone plan something. The whole week she'd hinted time after time about the idea of Scotland, and he had never given her any indication that he was interested. "Martin . . . I think . . ." She shook her head, still in awe over his efforts to make her happy. "It sounds lovely."

"So you'd want to go?"

Louisa smiled. "Of course I want to go!" She leaned over and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, placing her cheek against his as she hugged him tightly. "Thank you."

Martin, surprised by her display of emotion, brought one of his hands around to her back. "Mm, you're welcome. I thought we could rent a cottage rather than stay in some ghastly bed and breakfast."

She pulled back from their embrace. "I can't wait to go."

He cracked a brief smile. "Yes."

"And you're all right with this?" Louisa asked, keeping one hand stilled on his upper arm. "I mean, I don't want you to feel like I'm pressuring you into a holiday. I'd really like it if you actually wanted to go, Martin. Like I said before on our honeymoon: I don't want to drag you off somewhere and have you complaining."

"No," Martin said, looking into her eyes. "I want to go. A while back I remember you saying that doctors are allowed to take time off. In fact, I don't believe I've taken a day off since moving here. So I think it's time for a break—to experience something new . . . and beautiful."

Louisa's smile widened at his words. "Yes, I think it's time." Leaning forward, she pressed her lips against his, where they melted together in a slow, yet amorous, kiss.

"You're very emotional, Louisa," Martin said, breaking their kiss.

She chuckled. "I'm pregnant and my husband just agreed to take me away for our anniversary. I think I have a good reason to be emotional, don't you?"

Still keeping eye contact, he took hold of her right wrist, feeling for her pulse. "Semi-dilated pupils and elevated heart rate . . ."

"Is that so?"

"Yes."

Louisa ran her fingers down his silk tie. "Is there something I—or we—could do to alleviate that?"

Martin didn't need to be an expert on jokes to understand where his wife's behavior was leading. "It's probably best to wait after eating so soon."

Normally she'd be a bit disappointed with him for ruining a romantic moment. But they had the entire afternoon to do what they wanted, completely uninterrupted. For now, she didn't mind sitting outside with her husband and a hamper. They had the most spectacular view anyone could ever dream of, and a place so full of history and culture, she couldn't imagine being anywhere else.

"It's so quiet and peaceful up here," Louisa said, her excitement having slightly faded.

"Yes. It is."

"Do you ever wonder what it would be like to live up here?"

Martin turned to face her. "You mean at the farm? It's a bed and breakfast now, Louisa."

"No, not here specifically." She waved her hand around them. "I meant the area in general—away from all the noise and traffic of the village."

"What are you getting at?"

Louisa glanced down at the blanket. "Since we found out I was pregnant, I've been thinking about finding another house." She looked back up at him. "I can't picture us living in the surgery for much longer with two young children, Martin. We're going to need more space."

"I see."

"We could have our own house. No patients knocking at the door first thing in the morning or while we're in the middle of dinner. Our own space away from the surgery. What do you think?"

Martin reached up to tug on his ear. "I don't know. It's a big decision to make, Louisa."

"The real downside is that we'd both have to drive to work, but I think it could be good for us. The kids could have their own rooms, you and I could even have our own office space, plus a large back garden would be nice, since we don't really have one at the surgery."

As he listened to Louisa, and the more he thought about it, he did think it might actually work. It would be quite a change if they did decide to move. And financially, they had the means to purchase a larger home. Perhaps one with higher ceilings and doorways?

"Well?" Louisa said, pulling him from his thoughts.

"It's certainly something to think about."

"But you're not totally against it?"

Looking down, Martin moved his hand closer to Louisa's on the blanket. Their fingers touched, and naturally they entwined them together. "No," he replied, gazing back at her. "I'm not against it."

Louisa smiled. "You know all I've ever wanted is for us to be happy, Martin. And I know how much you dislike change. But I think this could be our next step."

"Perhaps it will."

Standing up, Louisa held her hand out for him to take. "C'mon."

He furrowed his brow. "What?"

"We have celebrating to do."

"For what?"

"For being potential homebuyers."

"Louisa, no one celebrates that."

"I'm trying to be romantic here, Martin. I mean, the farmhouse is empty for the day and we have three hours to kill before we have to collect James. And as much as I've enjoyed sitting out here with you, I'd rather not go home with a sunburn."

"Are you saying you want to . . .?"

"Unless you don't want to?"

"No!" He stood up quickly. "I, um . . ." He cleared his throat. "I'd like that."

"Good. Now help me gather all this up."

After cleaning up their picnic, as they were walking through the tall grass towards the farmhouse, Martin took hold of Louisa's right hand. They turned to look at each other. "You know I don't mind it when you're emotional."

She smiled to herself. "You might as well get used to it for the next six months." Leaning up on her toes, Louisa kissed his cheek. "I love you."

"I love you, too." He felt her squeeze his hand just as the wind ruffled his hair. Perhaps change would be a good thing?

. . .

When Martin and Louisa collected James from the Bradbury's a few hours later, neither felt pressured nor rushed into making any big decisions regarding their future. They had plenty of time before the baby arrived, and both agreed to taking time off from work after the birth, especially if it was premature or if there were any complications.

"No troubles, then?" Louisa asked as she took hold of James's hand.

Stephanie crossed her arms over her chest, the evening air now feeling a bit chilly. "Nope. He was perfectly well-behaved. I think he and Owen had a good time." She looked down at her son, who was waving goodbye to James.

"I guess we'll have to do this again sometime."

"I think the boys would really enjoy it."

"We can talk again next week, then?"

Stephanie smiled. "Of course. Bye, James. I hope we'll see you again soon."

"Bye," the toddler replied, burying his face in his mother's skirt, still a bit shy around Owen's mum. He waved goodbye to his friend just as Louisa steered him in the direction of the car, where Martin had chosen to wait.

"How was he?" Martin asked, once Louisa had James buckled in his car seat in the back.

"Stephanie said he was very well-behaved."

As he backed the Lexus down the front drive, Martin looked up at his son through the rear view mirror. "Well done, James."

"I think he's asleep now," Louisa said, turning to look at the back seat.

"Good. He's due for a nap anyway."

The interior of the car remained silent as Martin navigated his way through the narrow and winding streets of the village. He glanced over at Louisa for a brief moment, seeing a bit of bare skin her dress had refused to cover upon crossing her legs. He swallowed hard, remembering the intimate moments they shared back at the farmhouse.

Even though he had only looked for a few seconds, Louisa had caught him staring. "Something wrong, Martin?"

He cleared his throat. "No. I was, um . . . nothing."

She knew what he was thinking about. "I know."

For the rest of the short drive back home, Martin kept his attention focused on the road. Things between him and Louisa had been going really well as of late. He even managed to briefly forget his worries regarding Louisa's pregnancy. As he carried James inside the house, Louisa taking care of the hamper and blanket, Martin felt that perhaps she was right. They were definitely going to need more space.