"Get out," he yelled and followed his latest patient into the waiting room area, gesturing to the door. "Out, out, out. No, I am not going to write you another prescription. You've not listened to my instructions regarding the last two. You wonder why it won't clear up-maybe use what you still have!" Martin huffed, and he finally stopped talking, nothing he was now standing in the middle of his waiting room yelling at a 20-year-old idiot boy, young man, whatever he was. Martin tugged on the bottom of his suit jacket and nodded as he turned around to retreat into his office. He wasn't even back inside and heard Pauline try to "fix" the situation.

"Sorry about the doc," he heard her say. "He's not been the same for months, well, always with his way, but you know, since things changed around here."

Martin didn't need to hear more. He closed his door, grateful that idiot was his last patient of the day. He sat down at his desk and sat back in his chair, running his hand over his face. These bloody villagers irritated him to no end. Why must they not listen? Why must they act like a doctor's prescription is optional to getting better? He didn't know. What he did know was that he was tired, extremely tired.

Of course, he wasn't the only one who was tired. Louisa was too, and he felt badly that he could not help her right now. He did miss her, and he'd even admitted that to her, something that was a big step for him. He missed his wife, his wife. Just thinking that made him cast a small smile. In his current state, though, no one would see that smile. No, the only thing the village was seeing was a very frustrated and grumpy GP.

"Doc," he heard and looked up to find Pauline there at the doorway, checking on him. "I've closed up the surgery. All of the blood vials are ready as usual. Anything else before I go? You doing okay, Doc?"

Martin turned slightly in his chair and gave a once over to his odd receptionist. He never would have pictured a young woman like Pauline working for him. She would never fit in a place like London where assistants or receptionists were held to a professional standard. Here, though, with her odd way, she had a way. The villagers loved her, and somehow, that made them more likely to open up to him. He waved his hand at her.

"No, Pauline, that is all for today. Good day," he said with a nod. She nodded too and instead of leaving, she stepped inside the room.

"Well, see, Doc, I was just ahh, wondering. Al has to go pick up a new freezer for the restaurant. Well," she rolled her eyes, "it's not new exactly, new to Al, but Burt found some great deal on it. Anyway, it's about three hours' drive from here. He was going to go on Friday, and well, ahh, I was hoping that maybe just this once, I might take a day off? I'm caught up on all the notes and such. This was a weekend you were out of the call rotation. Me and Al, we talked about camping overnight and enjoying the weekend. We never get time away, and his dad is always around. So?"

Martin studied here there, as she stood, obviously nervous. The call rotation was something he'd finally agreed to join after Chris talked to him again about it. Chris explained that even if Martin was eventually planning to leave Portwenn, the new doc would definitely want to be in a call rotation instead of being open every single Saturday. Martin had just assumed to see his own patients, knowing he owed them a duty of care. Just two weeks ago now, though, Martin had finally agreed. He'd seen the patients the first week, and while he had a few that had come from neighboring villages, it really hadn't changed his Saturday much. Most of the patients were his anyway. He'd seen patients again last Saturday, a this week, he was due a Saturday off from that. He'd briefly considered going to London to see Louisa, but he had been worried with the very short turn-around that he wouldn't see much of her but more of the train. Now, though, with this request from Pauline, one she didn't usually ask and one he very rarely would grant, but perhaps now, he saw something to his own benefit.

Martin put his fingers up to a point in front of his mouth as he considered it. Pauline stood there, appearing nervous. Finally, he cleared his throat, "Yes."

"Yes?" Pauline asked, drawing back her head in shock. "Yes, what?"

Martin rolled his eyes, "Yes, you may go. That is what you were asking, correct? I assume you do not need a medical lecture on safe sexual practices or the sort for this, this," he waved his hand, "camping adventure. Yes, you may go."

Pauline beamed and ran toward him, throwing her arms around him, "Oh, thanks, Doc! See, it's what I tell people-you have a soft spot down there somewhere."

"Pauline," he said, trying to pull her off of him. She stood back and looked down to him, her smile as wide as her face. "Do not make me change my mind. I expect you to be prompt first thing Monday morning and be here at your desk promptly at 8:30. I cannot afford tardiness, especially if the surgery will be closed a day."

"Yes, Doc, yes, yes," Pauline said, almost jumping from excitement. "I will have everything set the rest of this week, and of course, I will be on time next Monday. Oh, I'm going to tell Al! He will be so excited. I'll see you tomorrow, Doc!"

Before Martin could say more, Pauline went running out of the office. He heard the door close and then, he let out his breath. It was only Tuesday, but it felt like it had been a long week already. Now, though, with Pauline wanting off Friday, Martin could possibly travel to London for a long weekend. He was certainly overdue. It was now three weeks into May. By his quick glance to his chart on his computer, where he was keeping track of Louisa's pregnancy, he saw that she was now at 33 weeks. He glanced to the time and saw that she should be almost home from work, something that was now taking her longer because of the move to the new flat, but she'd told him the added time to travel to work had not been a bother, mostly. She took the Tube and had a short walk, and right now, he knew the walk was good for her, even if it was making her feet ache. Hopefully, he could catch her at home.

"Louisa," he said softly after she answered. His face resorted to that same small smile he'd had earlier as he thought about her. Martin sat back in his chair to relax as he spoke to her.

"Martin, hi, this is a bit of a surprise. Everything ok? We normally don't speak until later in the evening."

"Yes, yes, but I can call back later if that would be preferred," he offered as he started to sit up. He heard Louisa chuckle lightly.

"No, Martin, I'm glad you called. It's good to hear your voice," she told him.

"Well, you heard my voice just last evening," he reminded her.

"Yes, still, I can miss you," she teased slightly. "Now, what do I owe the pleasure of your call right now, not that my husband cannot call me whenever he wants."

"Oh, by the way," she said, interrupting him before he even started to speak, "my school finally was able to update my name on my class records and schedules. To them, I'm officially Mrs. Ellingham."

"Ahh, good," he said with a slight nod. "That, that's very good, Louisa."

"Oh, you should hear some of my students, asking me about getting married and the baby," she sighed. "Quite the controversy with some, but, well, it obviously does not affect me as a teacher."

Martin listened, almost forgetting why he had called her. He nodded as she explained, "Yes, a name does not define your ability, Louisa, but ahh, I am very glad you have things changed, that the baby will have the proper name."

There was a brief silence, and finally Louisa sighed, "Sorry, Martin, you called me, and I'm blabbering on here. Everything alright?"

"Oh, yes, ahh, this weekend," he told her.

Louisa huffed, "Oh, Martin, yes, this weekend will be dreadful. Our school spring concert is Friday night. Saturday, they are doing an encore presentation of it for a retirement group. Don't get me wrong-it's lovely to do something for those who are elderly, but really, as pregnant as I am, it's about the last thing I want to do. I'm just so exhausted all the time, and this will have me on my feet all evening Friday and a good part of Saturday. I'll be so ready to crash by Saturday night. I'm already tired thinking of it."

"Oh," he said quietly as he sat in his chair and frowned. "I see."

"Why, Martin? Is something wrong this weekend? Oh, were you thinking of coming to London? I have missed you so. I can't believe it's been a month since you were here now."

"Err, yes, I had thoughts about it. Pauline just asked for the day on Friday," he explained.

Louisa chuckled lightly, "By the sounds of it, you gave it to her. I'm picturing her speechless, Martin. Oh, actually, perhaps I should be jealous. Did she cast you in a large embrace?"

Martin rolled his eyes at the ceiling as he recalled the scene. Louisa did know Pauline well. He looked to his finger where he was twisting his ring. He'd caught himself doing that now more and more whenever he spoke to Louisa. Martin didn't remember ever doing it before now, but the more and more he spoke to her, his wife, he couldn't help but twist at what was now his wedding band. Perhaps it was his way of connecting with her even with it on his wrong finger, but he paused his hand movements to focus on the call.

"Yes, she was rather appreciative," he commented to Louisa. "My thought, at least before you told me of your busy weekend, was that I would come to London, yes. It seems, though, this is bad timing."

"Oh, dear, Martin," Louisa sighed. "You have no idea how badly I would enjoy seeing you, and please don't think I'm suggesting you not come, but-"

"But," he grunted, "yes. It would be a lot of travel for very little time."

"Afraid so," Louisa sighed. "Even if you were here all of Friday, I have work, which I cannot miss due to this bloody concert and then the concert itself. It won't be much better for Saturday. Oh, I am sorry, Martin."

"Yes, well, perhaps I will just work here. I always have plenty to do. I can continue with the cds Ruth sent."

"How is your blood issue, making progress, hmm?" Louisa asked. Martin was quiet for a moment, and that did not go unnoticed. Louisa prodded him again, "Martin? Martin, is it still that bad? You said you thought you were making progress."

"Err, yes, I mean, I am hopeful of my progress, yes. Ruth's cds have a different approach," he explained.

"So, you have been watching them or practicing, whatever it is you do with them?" Louisa asked. "I know you hate discussing this, Martin, but I am concerned. I'm allowed to be concerned. I am your wife, after all."

"Yes, I know," he sighed. "I just don't like discussing it. It's, it's well, embarrassing if I have to be honest, and you always want honesty. I hate that I can't conquer this right now, once and for all."

"I am sorry, Martin. You told me, though, that you believe you will be able to get back to surgery. Do you still believe that?"

"Yes," he said firmly as he nodded to himself. "There simply is not another option. It's just a much slower process than I anticipated, than I want. My plan is still to return to London as soon as possible."

"Well, hopefully by this summer, maybe? Do you think? I ask, Martin, because I will be home with the baby. We do still need to discuss a name for him, but I suppose that is another day. I am concerned about your blood issue, though. I mean, should we start discussing an alternative arrangement?"

"Alternative arrangement?" Martin asked, now puzzled. "Such as?"

"Well, I mean, at some point, you living there and me living here, carrying your child, it's a bit ridiculous. I understand you are planning to get back to London. You just bought this flat for us, which was ridiculously expensive. That's another thing to discuss more, the finances because I did finally check on your account since you gave me access to it, and Martin, I had no idea you had that kind of money. Anyway, off topic. Maybe we need to discuss an alternative for your job, even for where we live, if you cannot get over the blood issue. Portwenn won't work, but England is large, Martin. We could look elsewhere."

"Louisa, you have told me you like your job. The flat is ours, not just mine. As for money, yes, I've always said there is plenty. That's why money is not a concern to me, and like the flat, it belongs to both of us. If you need something, get it. If you want to go back to work after the child is born, we can discuss it, but it's not needed for a monetary reason. If you do choose to work, there is money for a nanny or whatever. All are things we can discuss. I'd prefer you not to work, but I also know you well enough that I won't speculate that is what you prefer, and that will be something we can discuss. It seems we have a lot to discuss we have not even with these daily phone calls. Now, as far as my work, please let me sort this. I need to maintain my own dignity. I'd rather not go somewhere else to be a GP; it has been hard enough here establishing myself as somewhat credible, and while I'm still called a tosser on an almost daily basis, it appears the locals actually seek my medical help, even if they don't follow it. No, moving is for London for surgery. I will sort it."

"Martin," Louisa sighed, "I'm worried you are putting too much pressure on yourself for something that is possibly out of your control. We can discuss other options," she told him.

"We've discussed them," he said, now rather irritated. "Louisa, you've said you don't want to return to the village. Is that still your preference?"

"Yes, Martin, I'm also one that doesn't want to be the talk of the village, just as you don't want to be the talk around London. I suppose we both have that in common, which is why maybe discussing another location is a possibility."

"Please, just give me time to work on my problem here," he sighed. "I'll work on things this weekend since I will not be coming to London. Auntie Joan needed some help at the farm, mending a fence and something inside, I believe a loose staircase. I shall help her."

"I didn't realize you were so handy, Martin," Louisa said cheerfully, both wanting to forget about their living situation. "Are you able to do all of that? I know you like your clocks, but this is very different."

"Yes, of course," he said almost in a clipped tone. "I'm not an idiot. I can mend a fence. I spent the summers helping Phil do that as a child."

"Oh, right, I suppose you did, and I didn't think of you as an idiot as you said, Martin," Louisa grumbled.

"Yes, err, ahh, I am sorry, Louisa. I didn't call to argue or raise my voice. I realize I'm stressed, and I know things are not easy for you. Tell me-how are you feeling?"

"Bit tired, Martin, and my feet have been killing me," she explained. "I'm feeling every bit of eight months pregnant."

"Your shoes-are you wearing those sensible shoes, Louisa?" Martin inquired.

"Yes, of course, Martin. The flats, I'm wearing the flats. My feet are too swollen for anything else. I am sorry I won't be able to see you this weekend. That would have been lovely. Will you be able to come to London before the baby is born? I was hoping we would have a little time to ourselves, married, alone, at least for a few more days together before he arrives. I am so excited about a boy, Martin. Thinking back, not knowing the gender, well, it seems a bit silly now, hmm?"

"I've known the gender, but yes, it is becoming more of a reality with each passing day. By the time he is here, I should hopefully be well on my way to getting back to London," he stated.

"Do you worry that your blood issue is tied to your worries about being a father, Martin? You've said you feel very inadequate about that, which you shouldn't. You will be a great dad, even with your horrid parents. They do not define you. I just wonder if your worries about things in life somehow mix with your phobia."

He frowned as he sat at his desk, and then, he fidgeted too, not believing they could be linked. He shook his head to himself as he answered, "No, I've had the phobia for years now, Louisa. You know that was the reason I came to Portwenn. No, this is just something that has tried to take over my life. I will not tolerate it to dictate our future."

"Marty!" Martin heard and sat up. He looked and saw Joan outside his surgery window, waving at him with a casserole in her hand. He nodded to her, and he gestured with his finger as she nodded and continued to the door.

"Ahh, Louisa, Auntie Joan is here with supper. I told you she's been stopping by a few times a week with food," he stated.

"Oh, I'd give about anything to have someone bring me supper, Martin, "she sighed. "Joan's casserole sounds delightful right now."

"Yes, Louisa," he said quietly, "I wish I was there with you now. I would prepare some fish for us."

Louisa lightly chuckled, "Yes, well, maybe I'm okay without fish another night, Martin, but thank you. I appreciate you want to be here. I wish you were as well. I'm sorry about this weekend. Can we look at another weekend before the baby? I miss you. Oh, lovely idea I just had," she said happily, "perhaps a short holiday, somewhere even outside of London?"

"Ahh, best you not travel, Louisa," Martin told her. "It's not advised for this late in pregnancy. No, you will need to stay there, but yes," he said crisply, "I will look at the calendar."

"Very good, Martin, and I will let you go to eat with Joan. Martin, I love you," she said, and about that time, Joan popped her head into his surgery door and gave him a smile and wave. He nodded to her.

"Yes, err, yes," he said quickly, not wanting to say it aloud with Joan there. "Ahh, I do too. Goodbye."

He hung up and turned to Joan, feeling slightly blushed. He nodded to Joan as he stood and straightened his suit coat.

Joan chuckled, "Well, Marty, about the only time you blush like that is after a conversation with Louisa. I take it she was on the phone?"

"Yes," he said quickly, ducking his head as he walked toward his aunt. "I do speak to her daily."

"Hmm, yes, as you should. She is your wife. What a concept," she said rolling her eyes. "When are you going back to London? This weekend? You haven't been in a month. You've left that poor girl there alone and pregnant, alone Marty after you married her and ran back here."

"I didn't run back!" Martin exclaimed as he balled up his fists in frustration. "You know this situation is not all my doing, Auntie Joan. I'm working on it."

"You look stressed, Marty, that's all," Joan said, giving him a soft smile. "I hate seeing you like that."

"Well, well," he gestured, "yes, I am. I have to conquer my phobia. I do want to be with Louisa."

"That is good to hear, Marty, and yes, since neither one of you is willing to share your big news about the wedding or the baby, you do need to focus on yourself, on conquering your phobia, but you also need to relax yourself. You don't look well, Marty."

Martin glanced at his aunt and noted the same about her. She looked tired and worn out, more than usual. He nodded back to her, "Yes, well, thanks a lot, Auntie Joan. Might I say the same to you?"

Joan waved at him, "Rubbish. My excuse is old age. Yours is stubbornness, both you and that lovely wife of yours. Both of you are too stubborn for your own good. She won't come here, and you have a busy surgery that keeps you from going there."

"I tried this weekend, but she has some silly school concert," he waved. "Instead," he nodded to his aunt, "I will be available to help you at the farm."

"Really?" Joan raised her eyebrows. "Well, I am sorry you won't be able to see Louisa, but I will be glad for the help. While you are there, Marty, we can dig through boxes in the shed. I believe I have a lot of your baby things, things your mother didn't want. I think there are even some of your old wooden toys out there should you want them for the child." She smiled and reached over to squeeze his hand, "Must say that I never did think you'd have your own child, Marty. I'm very happy about that, happy you two were able to work out things as well. So, yes, let's get the work done around the farm, and then, we can find some of your old things you can pass along to your son, hmm?" She patted his hand before pulling it back. Martin looked to where she'd had her hand on his and looked up to her again.

"Ahh, yes, my son," he swallowed. "I suppose he might enjoy the wooden train or whatever you have."

"Yes, he would," she smiled. "You and I can talk more then too, Marty. Sounds like both of us need a good rest, so let's eat, get a good night sleep-the both of us-and by the weekend, we can maybe talk more, yes? I'd like to hear your plans for traveling to London this summer because Marty," she eyed him, "babies have a mind of their own, and if you think it will be easy to be there for the birth and keep the village out of this, well" she chuckled. "I'm all ears on how you plan to do that."