Martin clutched his fish under his arm as he made his way through the village and back toward the surgery. He walked briskly, even though it was hot; he wanted to get home and away from the tourists who were already out bright and early this June day. He tried to avoid contact as he walked, wanting only to get his fresh fish home, put it up for supper later, and get ready for his busy day.

"Oh, Dr. Ellingham," Mrs. Tishell said, and Martin, who was ahead of her, sighed and rolled his eyes. "Wait, please!" He paused and turned abruptly, his fish still clutched under his arm. He was looking forward to his fish. After spending a long weekend in London with Louisa, he missed his standard meal. Louisa's appetite had not been up for fish over the weekend. He had been happy to oblige her as long as her food was of optimal nutritional value. Instead of fish, they'd had chicken twice and steak. He'd refrained from any comments of the amount of food she had eaten. After all, she was three weeks now from her due date, and as appalling as her enormous intake of food, he knew she was eating for too. And again, it was healthy. Fresh meat, steamed vegetables, and he only raised his eye at the pastries she'd bought and had eaten throughout the weekend. It had been a good visit, one that he hated to leave her yesterday in the doorway of the flat, but he hoped to really clamp down and get this phobia under control. His family, yes family because it was Louisa and soon to be his son, were going to rely on him to be present. He was committed to that as well, something his own parents had not done.

"Yes, Mrs. Tishell," Martin said gruffly as he focused on her. He tried not to roll his eyes again, but she looked ridiculous in a bright pink dress. It was not normally something he noticed on women, their clothing, but this dress was extremely bright and too ruffly, if that was a word. She looked like she was flapping around in it, and he grimaced at the large amount of makeup she also seemed to be wearing. Thankfully, Louisa knew how to dress and dress well.

"Oh, I wanted to check on you Dr. Ellingham," she said breathlessly, as she put her hand on his arm. "I looked for you over the weekend, and you were out of town. At least, that's all your aunt would venture to tell me. I have some leftover chicken stew that I thought we could share tonight as we discuss journal articles. Well," she fanned her face and possibly blushed-it was hard to tell with her cheeks so rosy already-"you know that we medical professional have to stick together."

"Err, ahh," he said holding up the fish, "I have my own dinner. Are you feeling faint?"

"Heavens no," she said, slipping a ridiculous laugh into the conversation. "I mean, the weather, it is a bit warm today, but no, I'm just rushing to greet you. I can always bring the stew over tomorrow. Would that be okay with you?"

"No," he said. "I have patients. Good day," and with that, Martin spun around, almost hitting her arm with the tail of his fish as he did. He did not look back to check on Mrs. Tishell. The woman drove him batty.

Martin continued his brisk walk home, avoiding eye contact with the local fishermen. He'd soon surely see most of them in his clinic. What was it with this village that everyone was always in need of medical attention? The slightest ailment turned into a problem in his clinic almost daily. As he walked and focused only on his walk and not the bloody villagers, he let his mind wander. It easily wandered back to Louisa. So quickly, he had grown to want her always around, and he'd never felt that for anyone in his life. His parents had never wanted him around, and he'd grown up believing that he was fine on his own, that he preferred to be on his own. Even with his visits to Auntie Joan and Uncle Phil, while he enjoyed seeing them, he always knew it was temporary, and when he was old enough to understand the visits, they stopped, leading Martin to believe that again, he was not wanted; he was a nuisance. Throughout school and university, he'd stuck to himself. Looking back, his brief encounters with women and even the relationship he'd had, well, that had been one of convenience on both their parts. He'd been needed for well, things-a study partner, a partner in bed, and that had truly been about it. When Edith had gotten everything she needed from him as they graduated, she left him too for Canada. He would be fine on his own; he was meant to be on his own.

Louisa, after all of their back and forth, their strained relationship, well, he was finally seeing, finally understanding that he was truly better off around her. He already missed her and while he was looking forward to his fish, he dreaded the thought of eating alone. He'd enjoyed their meals together over the weekend. He felt himself almost smiling at their dinner conversation the other evening.

"Fred?" Louisa had said with a question in her voice, out of the blue. Her beautiful eyes locked on Martin's, and she tilted her head, which had her ponytail leaning to the side as well.

He frowned and narrowed his gaze, "Are you alright? You know I'm Martin."

Louisa burst out laughing, leaving Martin there, staring at her, wondering what in the world she was laughing about at his expense. She shook her head, and seeing that he was still confused and hurt, she leaned across the table as best she could and patted his hand, "No, no, sorry," she shook her head. "I just realized I was having a conversation in my head and hadn't included you. I was thinking of baby names. Fred?"

Martin pulled his head back aghast, and he then leaned in toward her, reaching his free hand to feel her forehead, "Are you sure you are alright? You aren't having delusions or something? Having delusions-"

"Martin, I'm not delusional," she sighed, patting his hand again before she sat back in her chair. As she did, she rested her hands on her very round stomach and gestured toward it.

"We do need a name for him, you see. He is coming soon. I'd thought of Fred. That is the name of a former student, and he was very funny, sweet, and just a joy in class."

"No," Martin frowned and looked down to cut his meat. He glanced to her and saw that he had disappointed her, so he put down his fork and sighed. "I had a Fred in boarding school. Auntie Joan would send letters to me, letters I hid in my drawer. Somehow, Fred always found them and would read them to our table at supper. It was highly embarrassing, and I'm sorry, but no. Besides," he nodded to her, "I don't want our son named for the funny kid at school. Let's pick a name that expresses intelligence, class."

"Oh, I'm sorry, Martin," Louisa frowned as she listened to him. "That's a horrible thing Fred did to you. Knowing Joan, I'm sure the letters were sweet and personal, not that reading anyone's letters of any kind is okay, but well," she rolled her eyes, "letters from your parents most likely did not show the same sort of affection."

Martin had picked up his utensils again, and without missing a beat, he took a bite as he told her, "My parents never sent me letters when I was at school."

Louisa, once again, looked to him horrified, "Wait, Martin, what do you mean? They never sent you letters? Did they call you instead or send packages?"

"Nothing," he shrugged. "I was left alone there. When it was time for a holiday, they phoned the headmaster and told him how I was to get home, that is, if I was to go home. Often, I was told to stay there for shorter breaks. For summer ones, I often went right to Cornwall. I rarely saw them."

Louisa just sat there speechless and shook her head. Finally, she pounded her hand on the table, startling Martin and shaking their dishes.

"I'm sorry, Martin, but the more I hear about your parents, the more they infuriate me. I want to march over to their flat and tell them what I think."

He listened and gave her a nod, "Yes, well, it would be a waste. You see that they just don't care. It would only cause you worry, which isn't good for the baby, and they would get pure enjoyment out of tormenting you. It's in the past."

"I will not have them around our son, Martin. They are miserable people. I mean, I know my dad is a con artist, but at least the man loved me. Oh," she let out her breath and winced. Martin put down his fork and eyed her, watching her squeeze her eyes at the pain.

"Are you alright?" Martin finally asked when she opened them.

She nodded, "Yes, just as I've been having for several weeks, those contractions. I suppose you are right that I am getting worked up, and the baby can tell." She let out her breath again, "I'll be okay. I just need to relax and get my attention on something else. Can we discuss names, please?"

Martin gave her a gesture with his fork, "I don't mind doing so if you are sure it won't upset you. The last several times we've tried to discuss names, it's not ended well. We can't agree on anything."

"Terry?" Louisa asked, eyeing Martin.

"No, I'm sorry, but he's a criminal," Martin said looking to his plate.

"Arthur?" Martin offered. "I had a professor I enjoyed with that name." He looked to Louisa, and she was making a face. He sighed and put his fork down again, "Another displeasing student named Arthur?"

"Yes," she said, rolling her eyes. "I'm sorry, Martin. Being a teacher makes this extremely hard. I'm not trying to be difficult."

"Nor am I," Martin nodded as he pointed that out. The two grew quiet for some time.

"James was my grandfather, and I adored him," Louisa said with a smile. "I've not had a James that has been horrible. Hmm," she nodded, "why didn't I suggest that before now?"

Martin put his fork down and sat back, finished with his food, and he thought for a moment. He could feel Louisa looking at him, and he finally met her gaze, "James," he repeated with a nod. "My grandfather was Henry. I liked the man."

Louisa smiled, "Yes, he taught you about clocks, right?"

"Henry James?" Martin asked, eyeing her. Louisa instantly frowned.

"James Henry," she offered, and before Martin could protest, she sat forward, pointing toward him. "Henry James was a British author. I think that we need to have something different. I won't be able to look at him without thinking of the author."

"Phillip?" Martin offered again, this time, sipping at his coffee.

Louisa pursed her lips, and she wrinkled her nose, "I'm not sure."

"After Uncle Phil," he explained, waiting for that to sink in.

"I do rather like James Henry as we would be combining our grandfathers. Neither of us have any desire to use our father's names, or well," she rolled her eyes, "should use them. As you pointed out, my dad is a criminal, and yours, well, he acted horribly with you. How does James Henry sound? I know you might argue I'm getting my way with James first, but I rather like it. It goes nicely with Ellingham."

Martin put down his coffee cup and pursed his own lips as he considered it. He waited for her to look at him, and when their eyes met, he spoke quietly, "Louisa, you have given me much I did not know I ever wanted. Being alone was my nature until I first laid eyes on you, and then, I just wanted to be near you, to see you, to catch a glimpse. Our wedding back in Cornwall," he paused and frowned, "well, looking back, I know I was at my lowest, and being here today, it's made me admit more than I ever imagined I would. I never saw myself as a father, still am quite certain I will be a crap one, but I am quite certain we would not be here today, would not have necessarily made the attempts to reconcile had it not been for James Henry's pending arrival, so yes, I am certain the name is fine."

Louisa's smiled widened, and she stood, trying to lean over the table to kiss Martin.

"Marty! Marty!" Martin heard and snapped out of his memory, feeling his own face flush at the lovely memory. He scowled, hoping he didn't look like Mrs. Tishell with her bright rosy cheeks. He was halfway up the hill and turned quickly to see that Joan had just parked outside of Burt's place. She was waving him down, so he walked the several steps toward her.

"Auntie Joan," he said in a flat tone as he gave her a nod.

"Martin," she said, giving him a bright smile, as she started to unload the boxes of vegetables. Oh, it's lovely to see you. I've missed you these last few days. Before you were out of town, you were busy, so it's been awhile. How was your trip?" Joan asked that last part quietly. Martin watched her momentarily as she started to unload the boxes. He put his fish down on the tailgate of her truck and pulled at the other three boxes, stacking them alongside the one she'd already pulled off the truck.

"It was satisfactory," he said, pursing his lips. He saw his auth sigh, and he nodded, dropping his own voice. "Louisa is well, and we had an enjoyable weekend. She is rather tired and can't easily get around. We did some walking in the park area behind the flat, but I'm very glad she will be done with school next week. She needs to rest."

"I'm glad to hear she is well," Joan smiled. "I'll give her a call later today to check on her."

Martin almost looked uncomfortable, but he ducked his head and responded, "Yes, ahh, I'm sure she will like that."

"Supper tonight?" Joan asked, giving him a wide smile. "I'd like to hear more about the trip and well," she gestured, "just eat with my favorite nephew."

He made a face, "I'm your only nephew."

She patted his arm and leaned in, "Yes, for now. I'll have a great nephew soon enough. Perhaps, then, he will take your place as my favorite, hmm?"

Martin rolled his eyes and grumbled, "Yes, perhaps. Ahh, I have fish," he nodded to the tailgate. "It will also stop Mrs. Tishell from lurking. She tried to pry a dinner invitation from me already this morning."

"Lovely," Joan said, digging in her box and producing a handful of things. "Here, take these for supper. Fresh vegetables. I'll contribute those. 6:00, I presume?"

"Yes, ahh, good," he nodded. "I must be off. Patients," he said and started to turn. He turned back around, and Joan was already busy.

"Auntie," he said, and she glanced up. He felt his face flush, "Your new favorite nephew," he muttered, and she broke into a warm smile as he spoke, "James Henry," he stated with a nod. He felt hot, and with a quick nod and his fish tucked under his arm and started on his way.

It took a moment for that to sink in with Joan, but he heard her let out a loud sigh and move quickly to his side, "Oh, Marty," she said, throwing her arms around him. He stopped again, embarrassed at their spectacle. Tourists were walking by eyeing them.

"Auntie Joan, honestly," he sighed, stepping away, as he smoothed down his suit coat. "No need for any display such as that. We had to pick a name. I simply told you what it will be. James is her grandfather."

"And, Henry is yours," she said with a warm smile as she patted his face. "You've done well, my boy."

"Ahh, I did suggest Phillip," he sputtered, and he saw Joan's eyes widen in love, but he continued quickly, "but she already had her heart set on James Henry." He grumbled at that, and quickly added, "Perhaps in the future," he said and immediately, his eyes widened, and he turned red again. "Err, ahh, no, not that I would want more children. That's not what I meant."

Joan chuckled and smiled at Martin, patting his face again, "You, my boy, have a kind soul, deep down there. I'm glad I get to see it. Yes, you being a father was something that came as a surprise, but honestly, yes," she nodded with her smile still there, "stranger things have happened. I can see it. Don't write it off. Louisa loves children."

"Don't be ridiculous," he grumbled. "Patients waiting," he said firmly, and with a nod, he continued on his way, pulling at his shirt. He felt hot. He'd purposely gone into the village early to avoid the heat of the day and the villagers, and he was returning home after running into several and well, rather hot now too.