Chapter Four

There is a bench on a hill above the village with a lovely view of the harbor, and that is where my feet took me. There weren't many tourists this time of year so I was fairly sure I would be alone up there. I just needed a while to gather my thoughts and have a good cry; I couldn't seem to stop the tears from coming. There were so many mixed emotions swirling around inside me, and none of them would land for more than a few seconds before another would take its place. The one that landed most, though, was utter fear.

My first pregnancy had been a lonely one; my husband was away a lot for work (or so he told me), and he wasn't exactly emotionally available when he was at home. When I went into labor so early and couldn't reach him on the phone, I knew our marriage was in serious trouble…finding out he was with his girlfriend while our child was clinging to life was the final straw. I had lost a child and a husband on the same day.

I knew Martin loved me; there was no question of that. I also knew the idea of being a father terrified him. We had discussed having children and his answer was "I will do whatever will make you happy"...which was all well and good, but was that enough? I wanted him to be happy too, for him to be excited for this baby and the prospect of raising a child with me. I wanted him to want it too, not just do something because I wanted it. Above all, I needed to know a hundred percent that he would stay with me once the baby came. I thought he would…but was I completely sure? If I lost him too, the only man I had ever considered the love of my life, I didn't know how I would cope.

Underneath it all, though, I had begun to feel a tiny seed of hope. There was a baby, no bigger than a speck, growing inside me…a baby made out of a tiny part of myself and Martin, formed during an act of complete love for each other. Assuming everything went as planned and the little speck stayed where it belonged for the next seven months or so, we were going to have a child. I couldn't help but allow myself to feel excitement and blissful happiness.

As I sat there contemplating the situation, a figure wearing sweatpants and a tee shirt with the word "police" on it jogged up the hill. I didn't recognize the man, and I expected him to keep on jogging and pass me by; instead, he slowed and came right up beside the bench where I was sitting. He was muscular and handsome, with close cropped hair and kind eyes.

"Hello," I said politely, hoping he didn't notice how much I had been crying.

"Joe Penhale," he introduced himself, holding out his hand. "I'm just out getting a lay of the land…are you all right?"

"Anna Harper. Yes, I'm fine, thank you," I answered. Getting a lay of the land? What the heck did that mean? "Are you here on holiday?" I asked.

He chuckled. "No, I'm the new PC in town…I start next week," he answered.

This was a surprise. I had seen Mark Mylow a few weeks previously and he hadn't mentioned he was leaving Portwenn. "What's happened to PC Mylow?"

"Promoted to Sergeant…going to be in Bristol now," he told me. "So I'm here learning the ropes."

Well, good for Mark. He deserved some good luck. "I see…well, welcome to Portwenn, Mr. Penhale," I said. I was sort of hoping that would be the end of our conversation.

"You're an American." It seemed that this detail just occurred to him. "So you aren't a native, then? Are you here visiting?"

"No, I live here. I work at the receptionist for the local GP, Doctor Ellingham."

The name seemed to be familiar to him. "Ah, yes…PC Mylow's good friend. He's mentioned the Doc."

I tried not to smile at his statement. Oh, Mark, bless his heart. He tried so hard to get Martin to be friends with him. "Er, yes…that's right."

The conversation seemed to fizzle out then, and Joe Penhale stood looking out over the village for a few awkward seconds. "Well, I best be going…still want to get another mile in," he finally said. "Just wanted to stop and make sure you were okay. I thought you were crying."

"Thank you, that's very nice of you. I was crying, but I'm going to be okay," I assured him. He studied me for a second, gave me a little salute, and was on his way.

I had been sitting on he hill for nearly an hour when Martin came walking up the hill toward me, wearing an expression of grim determination. When he got a few feet away, though, he hesitated, seeming to lose some of his resolve.

"Hello," he said softly.

"Hi." I gestured for him to sit down next to me. I immediately moved closer and put my head on his shoulder. We sat that way in silence for a few minutes, looking out toward the village. Finally, he cleared his throat.

"Is it…something I've done?" he asked quietly.

"What?"

"You've been…upset. Is it because of me?"

I scooted closer and put my arm over his waist. "No…you've been just fine," I answered. "I'm sorry you've felt that way."

"Then what…?"

I took a deep breath. "There's something I need to tell you, and I'm just been…scared, I guess."

"Scared of what?" He tilted my face up to look at him. I could feel the ache of tears forming in my eyes.

"I'm afraid if I say it out loud, something bad will happen. If I say it, it won't be true anymore," my voice broke. His face was a mixture of concern and alarm, and I felt stupid for being so dramatic…but some superstitious part hidden away inside me believed every word of it. I imagined the words in the air, like a banner on the back of an airplane; one by one they disappeared in a puff of vapor, the final letter erasing the tiny being forming in my womb.

"Anna, what is it? Please tell me." He tenderly used his thumb to brush away a tear that had spilled onto my cheek. His loving gesture just made the tears come faster.

"Martin…it's…I'm pregnant," I whispered. There, it was out. I couldn't take the words back. Martin's eyes grew wide and the color drained from his face.

"Pregnant…? But how…you were…" he stammered. His expression would have made me laugh under different circumstances. Right now, though, I was too queasy with anxiety and tension to see much humor in it.

"I know, but for whatever reason, it didn't work. It happens."

"Yes," he said faintly. "Yes, I know it's possible…" He was still very pale. We sat staring at each other for what felt like a long time. I was starting to worry-was he ever going to speak?

"Say something," I whispered. I laid my palm on his cheek, and he instinctively leaned into it. "What are you thinking?"

"How…um…far along are you?" His voice was so soft, so tender then, and it made my heart constrict.

"I'm not sure…seven or eight weeks, maybe?" He slowly moved his hand to rest on my still-flat belly, and I saw the moment when the look in his eyes changed from shock to wonder, and finally to pure, palpable love. I knew then that I had had nothing to worry about; Martin would undoubtedly be there with me through it all. I could feel tears welling in my eyes again. I placed my hand on top of his, and he met my gaze.

"God, I have never seen you look so beautiful," he breathed. He kissed me very gently, and pulled me into his arms where he held me for a very long time.