Martin sat at his table, alone, and almost in the dark, with his fingers wrapped around his cup of tea. He wasn't a nostalgic man, but the cup was actually Joan's favorite tea cup. He'd brought it back to the cottage, the lone item he'd retrieved on his first trip out there to see for himself that she wasn't coming back. Martin was quiet, had been silent for some time, and he just sat there, his hands gripping the cup, almost for dear life.
"Are you alright?" Louisa asked. He jumped, unaware she'd even walked into the room and now had her hands resting on his shoulders. She put her chin on his shoulder, and as she did that, Martin felt her hair graze his face and neck. It slightly tickled; he let out a low hum.
"Yes, fine," he said without emotion or change in inflection in his tone. He shook his head slightly. Louisa commented again, her voice low, calm, and soothing.
"That's Joan's cup, yes? It doesn't match any of the others here, and I had tea with her enough times to recognize that."
"It is," he said with a single nod. She squeezed his forearms and stood. As she did, he gestured for her to sit down at the table. She started to walk around the table, and he locked eyes with her as she did. Martin nodded to the table again.
"Tea? I made enough," he said quietly. She nodded with a sympathetic smile, and as he poured it, he felt his hand shake, almost showing her, his wife, that he was a little rattled with everything.
"Thank you, Martin," she told him as he prepared her tea. He grunted again and put a dash of milk into her tea, fixing it as she liked it. She crossed her hands on the table and looked at him as he worked.
"Did you manage to get James to sleep? I know this is a strange place," he stated.
"He's sleeping well. That cot is very cozy for him. I'm glad it arrived so quickly," she stated. "It's been a long day, a long couple of days here in Portwenn."
"It has," he nodded. "I can't believe we leave her tomorrow, or," he paused and frowned slightly, glancing to her, "we say goodbye, I should rather say. It will be so final."
"It will," she said, reaching over to clasp his hand and give him a sad smile. "I'm so very, very sorry, Martin. This is the Martin that I love so much, the one who is vulnerable and that no one gets to see. I know you loved Joan deeply. You did so well today finalizing the plans, having to talk to so many in the village. I'm glad I could be here."
He raised his eyes to her, surprised to hear that comment, "You hate being here."
She frowned and dropped her head as she looked to her tea, "No, I don't. I mean," she sighed and continued, "I can't stand the gossip. I know it's going on behind my back, our backs, goodness, even to my face, but this is too important, Martin. I love you." She squeezed his hand, and he looked away, not wanting to get too emotional now, even sitting here with his own wife.
A knock at the front door had them both look over to it. Louisa met his gaze, and he stood.
"If that's another bloody patient-" Martin mumbled as he walked to the door. Louisa sat and listened, but it was too quiet. Soon, she heard the door close, but it surprised her when Ruth stepped into view.
"Oh, Ruth," she said as she stood and moved around the table to greet her. "You just arrived?"
"Yes," Ruth said, standing like a statue while Louisa gave her a hug. Martin stood behind his aunt, and he cleared his throat as Louisa was hugging Ruth. She, like Martin, was not one for much affection, but Martin stepped around her and gestured to the table.
"I'll get you a cup," he stated, and Ruth chuckled lightly as she walked to the table to sit at an open chair.
"Got anything stronger? Whiskey?" Ruth eyed him as she sat. He gave her a single nod and bent down to move around in his cabinet.
"Patients are constantly giving me things I don't need or use. I believe I have a bottle somewhere. I try to throw them out, but Pauline has started stashing things all over the house, saying it's rude to get rid of their gifts."
"I'll gladly take any whiskey you've been gifted," Ruth stated. With a sad, tired face, she turned to Louisa, "So, how is village life treating you these last couple days?"
"It's fine," Louisa sighed. She shook her head, "I'm trying-we're trying," she corrected herself, "to focus on Joan, on getting this right for Joan."
"Well, thank you for planning it, but I'm sure it will be as Joan would want. She was always fussing about. I don't know the first thing about what exactly she'd want."
"Louisa took care of those details," Martin said as he put the whiskey in front of her with a glass. He sat down again. "I'm of no concern for those details either, but she picked out what Joan would have liked."
Ruth raised an eyebrow and tilted her head at Louisa, "Well, then, thank you for doing that. Joan thought of you as a daughter, you know, even before all of this, before you married Martin. She's mentioned you for as long as I can remember."
"I'm just glad I could be useful," Louisa said with a sad smile. "Everything is set for the morning. I just hope the flowers are right."
"Joan can't see them," Martin stated, looking at her. "They will be satisfactory."
"I want them to be nice, not just satisfactory," Louisa said, sighing. The three were quiet for a few moments. Ruth broke the silence.
"I assume my great-nephew is sleeping? It's either that or the villagers you are not wanting to address have taken him off."
"He's sleeping, Louisa rolled her eyes. Martin added more.
"Louisa ordered him a cot. He's set up in that small room that was mostly storage. "It's temporary, so it works."
"Is it?" Ruth raised her eyebrows looking between the two. "The big reason you were staying away from here was to avoid the gossip. I'd say the gossip has found you, showing up here, married to Martin. Martin, if the village isn't talking about your hidden life with a wife and child, oh and one on the way, well, if they aren't talking now, I'd say they never will."
"We haven't discussed things further," Louisa raised her eyes and looked to Ruth and then to Martin, dropping her eyes quickly. "Ahh, Ruth, are you staying at the farm tonight? I'm sorry there isn't room here for you."
"No, no," she waved. "I am staying down at the pub. I stopped here first. They have food and well, spirits too," she said, raising her glass. "I wanted to make sure things were covered, that you didn't need anything from me before I went to my room."
"Everything is set. We are to be at the church at 10:00 sharp," Martin explained.
"Is your father coming?" Ruth asked, raising her eye to Martin. He shook his head, and he looked to Louisa to confirm she hadn't said anything. She shook her head too. Martin explained, "I never received any word back from him. I don't expect him to come."
"We see them on occasion-I mean," Louisa gestured, "run into them in London. They have no interest in our family, this family," she stated.
"Some things never change," Ruth shook her head from side to side as she stood. She gestured to Martin and Louisa, "Don't get up. You two look utterly exhausted. Thanks for taking care of the details. I absolutely had to stay for a meeting, but I've tied up the loose ends for now. I'll be off."
"Joan left you the farm," Martin stated, looking up at her from his chair.
"Well, why did she go and do that?" Joan sighed. She shook her head at Martin. "She didn't have to do that. You should have it. You're like a son to her."
"She left it to you," Martin stated. Ruth patted his arm.
"We will discuss it later, but I'll be off. I'll see you at the church at 10:00. Night, Louisa," and with that, Ruth quickly walked to the front door, opened, and closed it. It was several seconds later, when the two were quietly sitting at the table, that Louisa cleared her throat to speak.
She reached out for Martin's hand again, and that had him look up at her. Louisa's eyes had a warm look to them.
"You know, it feels very odd to be here in your cottage again," she stated and cleared her throat again. He cut in as she did.
"Louisa, we are legally married, so that means the cottage belongs to both of us," he stated.
"Yes, yes," 'she sighed, but she smiled at him and continued. "It's always been your cottage, though. It's not been my home. I've been thinking back to these last few years, the two of us in our dreadful relationship stalemate for so long. Then, when we finally," she paused and blushed before she jumped in with a different description. "I mean, when we finally did get engaged, and you and I started sleeping over, I suppose that was really the last fond memories I have here. Even James started here," she said with a shrug at him. His eyes darted, searching her face, and instead of saying something rude, he nodded.
"I was tiptoeing around, worried I would muck it all up, until I did muck it all up, also here at the cottage when I let you walk away," he told her as he looked at her. "If I haven't said it, standing on my porch, watching you walk away from our first wedding, that was the loneliest I have ever been in my life. There are times I hated this cottage, no more than the days following that."
Louisa gave him a small smile, stood, and walked around to Martin's side of the table. She gestured for him to move his chair, and she sat down on his lap and wrapped her arms around his neck.
"I never want you to feel alone, Martin. I don't want that for either of us. We did muck up a lot in this cottage," she nodded. "In a way, I wasn't thinking of that. I was thinking of more the times I'd fallen more and more in love with you. You gave me that first ring right here."
He rolled his eyes, clutching her side and shook his head, "I threw it in your supper. I mucked that up too."
Louisa started to chuckle and put her head to his shoulder, "I suppose you did, Martin. She laughed a few more seconds and sat back up, her hand running against his face. "I know we have a lot to discuss regarding Joan's belongings and such, not to mention what happens with our little family, but I'm trying to focus on just this right now, being here with you and James and this one," she said, patting her stomach. Martin watched as she did, and he moved his hand to put his hand over hers. Louisa smiled at that and put her forehead against his.
"We've both done our fair share of mucking up so much, Martin. A lot of that did happen here in Portwenn, yes, as much as I don't want to admit, even right here in this room. For tonight, though, I'd like to just remember some of our good times here, even times we had with Joan. Maybe we can get ready for bed and talk about some of our fond memories of Joan."
Martin shook his head, "I've told you all of them."
She rolled her eyes slightly, "I don't believe that for a second. She was a mother to you, and I know you have stories in that head of yours. I'd like to share some of mine, and if I bore you to sleep, well," she shrugged and leaned in to kiss his cheek, "that's a happy memory we've made. I've put you to sleep with lovely stories about your aunt. Can we check on James and try that?"
He searched her eyes and gave in quickly, nodding at her. She stood and turned to kiss him again.
"Ahh, Louisa," he said, as she stepped away. She turned back to him, "I'm glad you came," he stated, almost with every bit of his breath in that statement. He gestured and turned red at his statement, "I didn't realize how alone I felt here until you came. You know it's difficult for me to express anything, but yes, now, I can't imagine you not here with me."