Chapter Two

Later that evening, after Martin prepared our dinner of fish and vegetables, we sat at the table discussing the wedding. Even though it had been nearly three months since he proposed, we hadn't really been in a hurry to figure out the logistics of it; instead, we were spending time just enjoying being with each other. Since Martin had asked me to marry him and I had said yes, he had a sort of calm confidence about him where once there had been an underlying fear of me leaving. It was like he had finally come to the conclusion that we were really a proper couple and all the countless times I had told him I loved him, I was indeed telling the truth. It made me love him all the more to see him so content.

"I guess you know that my first choice would be to have the wedding in Virginia," I told him as we ate our meal. "I mean, my whole family is there…and besides Joan, all you have are your parents, whom I assume won't be invited."

He frowned disdainfully. "You assume correctly," he answered. "I can't begin to imagine why they would want to be there in the first place."

"Right. There is just one issue about having it back at home—there is pretty much no way we can keep it a small ceremony. As soon as everyone in town finds out I'm getting married, they will show up in droves. My family knows virtually every person there and they are all going to expect to be invited."

I could tell from the look on his face that Martin was mortified at the thought of getting married in front of a church full of complete strangers. I couldn't force him to go through that…to be honest, I didn't particularly want that for my wedding, either.

"So I think flying my family here would be a smarter idea," I went on. He was visibly relieved.

"I will do whatever will make you happy, of course…but I would much rather have the wedding here as well," he said. "I'm sure we will be able to find a church in the area that would be suitable for the ceremony."

"I agree. But that brings us to conundrum number two," I took a bite of fish and washed it down with a sip of water. "Everyone in Portwenn will want to be at the wedding too."

Martin blinked at me. "Why?" he asked, genuinely curious.

"Because you're the Doc! And you're marrying your American receptionist."

"That doesn't make any difference!" he argued. "I'm not exactly a well-loved member of the village…most of them think I'm a complete tosser, or have you forgotten?"

I rolled my eyes. "They may say that, but you are a respected man. They all come to you because they know you are an excellent doctor and will get to the root of their problems…even though you are a grouch." He scowled, and I laughed. "Trust me, they are all going to want to be there. As a matter of fact, I think Bert is taking bets on whether or not I show up at the altar…so some of them will come for that reason alone."

"Bert Large should mind his own bloody business!" Martin sputtered in protest.

"Yes, probably," I agreed amiably. "The point is, a traditional church wedding here isn't something either one of us particularly want."

"Not particularly, no."

"So I propose that we find a vicar, fly my parents and brother over, and have a quiet ceremony somewhere with just us…like in Joan's gazebo, maybe. We don't have to make it a big deal, just some flowers from her garden and the view of the sea…and us." I smiled at him and reached for his hand.

Martin's eyes softened. "Yes…that sounds…lovely. Perfect, actually."

"I'm glad you agree," I told him. "I think it will be beautiful, especially if we wait until it gets warmer…like maybe in July?"

"That gives us a little over three months; are you sure that's enough time?"

I thought a minute. I would need some sort of dress, but I didn't want anything fancy. We'd have to find a vicar. I suppose we would have to come up with some sort of food, and a small cake (even though I knew Martin wouldn't eat any), and flowers shouldn't be a problem. "I think we can get it all done in three months. I just want something simple and sweet."

It was my one regret that I had already had my big formal wedding, but had wasted it on someone who turned out to be a terrible human being. I wished I had met Martin sooner, so I hadn't had to go through all the heartbreak that man had caused.

As we were cleaning up the kitchen, Martin cleared his throat. "I um, have something for you," he said shyly. He reached into his pocket and took out a small box wrapped in a bow. "I know it will probably have to be made the proper size. It was my grandmother's." He opened the box and took out a ring, handing it to me.

"Wait, you have to do it properly!" I exclaimed. I held out my left hand, and after a look of confusion, he slid the ring onto my finger. It was several sizes too big, but it was absolutely beautiful…a small diamond flanked by two triangular emeralds in an Edwardian style. It couldn't have been more perfect if I had picked it myself.

"Oh Martin, I love it! It's just gorgeous," I breathed, wrapping my arms around his neck and kissing him. I could feel his mouth curl into a smile against my own, and I held him tighter, stroking the soft hair at the nape of his neck.

"You really like it?" he asked uncertainly. "Joan suggested maybe we take it to a jeweler and have it made into a more modern style…"

"Absolutely not! It's better than I could have ever imagined. Look, doesn't it look perfect?" I held out my hand to show him how the ring twinkled on my finger. "I wouldn't dare change it." I kissed him again, and this time Martin's hands came to cup my face, his thumbs softly caressing my cheekbones. He knew I loved it when he did that, like he was holding something rare and precious. Oh, how I loved this man.

"I'm glad you like it," he said softly, and tucked a curl behind my ear.

As soon as my eyes opened on Sunday morning, I knew something was off. Martin was already in the shower (even on the days the surgery was closed, he was still an early riser) but his absence in the bed wasn't the problem. It was…what? Everything smelled wrong—everything smelled really awful, to be honest. Ugh, had Martin bought new soap or something? Or was it the sheets…I was sure I had picked up the same detergent as usual. For whatever reason, though, the room certainly reeked.

I wrinkled my nose and pushed the duvet off me, sitting up on the edge of the bed. Whoa, hold on. The room suddenly tilted and spun, as if I had stepped aboard one of the fishing boats at the plat. As my stomach lurched, I bolted toward the bathroom door. I hoped Martin hadn't locked it or else scrubbing the floor boards would be first on the day's agenda.

I burst in just as he was turning off the water. "What are you…?" he began to protest, but I was already kneeling on the floor, throwing up what felt like my spleen into the toilet. I was vaguely aware of him standing there, naked and dripping wet, as I continued to heave. The scent of soap or shampoo or both was making the nausea worse.

"Are you all right?" Martin asked with concern as he wrapped a towel around his waist.

I peered up at him, eyes and nose streaming. "I've been better," I croaked, with a bit more sarcasm than I intended. "Could you open the window? Please?"

He blinked at me. "Anna, it's freezing out there…" he answered, clearly confused. I managed to look at him pleadingly before I was off again. There was nothing left to get rid of, but my stomach didn't seem to care about that detail. Martin dutifully opened the window and quickly finished drying off, slipping on the robe he kept hanging on the back of the door.

A steady stream of frosty air came blowing through the window, and the cloying scent began to dissipate. I took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. Just as quickly as it had hit me, my nausea had all but disappeared. I shakily got to my feet, wiped my eyes, and blew my nose.

"Are you all right?" Martin asked again, looking a bit worried. He reached out and gently touched my forehead with the back of his fingers. "You don't feel feverish…"

I took another deep breath and shook my head. "No, I think I'm okay now. That was weird, it just hit me all of a sudden…do you think it could have been something I ate last night?" Even as I said it, I knew that wasn't the cause; I had had food poisoning before, and it had caused stomach pain and had gone on for what seemed like forever. This was here and gone in less than fifteen minutes—I felt perfectly fine now. Actually, I was suddenly starving.

"Hmm…perhaps you've picked up a virus," he frowned slightly. "In any case, I don't think you should be going out with Aunty Joan today, do you?" She and I had been planning to go on a wedding dress scouting expedition later that day.

"I honestly feel okay now; I just need a little breakfast."

He looked at me skeptically. "I'd really rather you stay here where I can keep an eye on you," he persisted.

I pushed the window closed and turned to look up at him. "No, Martin…I appreciate that you are concerned, but I promise I feel fine. I'll take it easy today with Joan, though, and if I start to feel bad again I will come right home. Deal?" He didn't look convinced, but at least he decided not to keep arguing the point. He followed me out of the bathroom and stood observing as I tugged on my pajama pants and pulled my hair into some semblance of a ponytail.

"There is something you can do for me, actually," I said after I had wrapped my arms around his waist and leaned against his warm body. It was that smell again…I wrinkled my nose with disgust.

"Of course," he answered, holding me close.

"Please, can you throw away your soap? It smells really awful." My stomach was getting queasy again, and I had to back away from him. He looked at me in confusion.

"It's the same soap I've used for years," he protested. "Quite literally since I was about ten."

"Oh…" Huh. Well, that was weird. "Maybe they've changed the formula or something? All I know is it's making me really nauseous for some reason…maybe you could run down to Mrs. Tishell's today and get something with no scent? I'm sorry, love; I know I'm a pain," I added.

"Of course you aren't, don't be silly," he answered. "I will see to it this afternoon, all right?" I could tell by his expression that he was still perplexed, and a little worried. I smiled up at him and gave him a quick peck on the cheek, hoping that would convince him everything was just fine.

"Right then…time for breakfast!" I said brightly. The sooner the better, I thought-I was becoming more ravenous by the second.