*** Thanks so much for the reads and reviews! More "lovey dovey" coming up later I promise!***

Chapter 7

Martin continued to work steadily throughout the morning. Bert Large came in. His vertigo was back. Would he ever learn to take care of himself? He wanted to go through the whole incident with Mrs. Tishell again as he lay down for the Epley Maneuver.

"Met the new chemist then Doc?" he asked.

"Not yet. Quiet Bert! Let's finish. I need to get on to other patients who have much more serious complaints," Martin said with exasperation. The man drove him to distraction.

"She's quite a looker I understand. I think she met Louisa."

"Yes, Louisa did tell me that Bert. Now quiet! Do you understand the word?" Martin said as he walked around to his desk.

When Bert finally left, Martin glanced at his watch and saw that it was almost noon. He washed his hands and walked out to Morwenna's desk. "Please lock up if you leave for lunch Morwenna. I am going to the pub to eat and I don't want just anyone walking in here if you are gone."

Her eyebrows flew up. "You are going to the pub Doc? Really? And what's this about?"

"None of your business," he said. "I'll be back for my afternoon appointments. See you then."

Martin walked down the hill to the pub, wondering what in the world he had let himself in for. He thought about all of the people he had met since coming here. A man with a serious case of bipolar disorder. A fisherman who enjoyed inappropriate sexual activities. A forger with a knack for making lead paint. A teenager with an ungodly need for "tits". And don't forget the gynecomastia! Only a sample. Who knew that such a small village could have so many odd complaints. I have to stop this, Martin thought. This man seemed nothing like any of his normal patients. Still, he would keep the Ellingham guard up.

He entered the pub and who walked up immediately? PC Penhale of course. "Doc, don't see you here often. Fancy a pint?" Joe asked.

"No Joe. I am meeting someone thanks."

"The new chemist? Quite a looker that one. Although, after the problem with Mrs. T, I don't think you should get too close, do you?"

"Joe, not that it is any of your business, but I am meeting a patient. Now go away. He will probably be here any moment," Martin said with his usual tone of dismissal.

"Oh, hello Father," Joe said, looking over my shoulder.

"Joe, nice to see you," said a young man in what was now a familiar accent wearing a sweater with a priest's collar tucked inside. The two shook hands and Martin gaped. The young man was Mr. Jacobs! He was a priest. A priest. Oh God, Martin thought.

"Doc, this is..."

"Father Jacobs. Yes I know Joe. We met this morning as you can see," Martin said, gesturing to Father Jacobs' hand.

"Oh, yes, I see," said Joe. "What happened? Don't like to see this sort of flesh wound."

"Just a small meeting with a bit of rusty wire Joe," said Father Jacobs.

"Oh, so this is who you are meeting Doc. Well, I'll be off then. Hope you feel better Father. Have a good lunch."

Martin turned to face the vicar. "Father Jacobs. You might have told me and I could have addressed you correctly."

"Never mind, Doctor. Call me Luk. I hope we are going to be friends."

This was a new one for Martin, certainly. As he had told Roger Fenn before his attempt at marriage, he hadn't looked at a hymnbook since school. It wasn't that he didn't believe. Religion had just never seemed very important to him. Not very logical. Although he had noticed over his years as a physician that patients who had a strong faith seemed to weather serious illnesses with a better attitude. He wasn't sure about this though. Martin Ellingham, friends with a vicar? How do you get to be friends with a vicar?

"So, let's sit. I am famished," Luk said. Luk, Martin thought. Are you really supposed to call a vicar by his first name? Oh well, he asked for it.

We sat and ordered lunch. He ordered a healthy salad and water and Martin ordered his usual broiled fish. He was impressed. The young vicar's eating habits seemed healthy. No chips. Unbelievable. Martin guessed that explained his slim appearance.

"So, Doctor you wanted to know about Belgium?" Luk asked. "You are from London right?"

"Yes," Martin said.

"I love London. Beautiful city. Bit expensive on a vicar's salary though, although Natalie enjoys going whenever we have the chance."

Natalie. Why did that sound familiar?

"Natalie is my wife. I guess you will be meeting her soon. She is the new chemist. I think she is going to open the doors on Monday. We have had a lot of work to do, making the upstairs into a place where our Emily can rest and play. And I think she has met your Louisa. Natalie told me after my visit with you that we are going to have another meal together. Tomorrow night I think. Babies in tow. Should be fun."

Now Martin put it all together. Natalie was the woman Louisa had been talking about the night before. It looked like he was going to be in some sort of relationship with this man and his wife like it or not. So far Luk seemed okay but Martin hoped the wife wouldn't make him too uncomfortable.

"I came to Port Wenn from Belgium via France and America," he continued. "I am originally from Belgium and studied Systematic Theology there. After I got my PhD, I was off to France to serve a small congregation there. But I have always been fascinated with America and when an opportunity there opened up I applied. It was a great fit and so I made the leap. Really blessed. I met Natalie in the congregation there in New Haven, Connecticut. After a while we both decided to come back to Europe if we found a place that God seemed to want us. And Port Wenn opened up at just the right time. Natalie was a pharmacist in New Haven. She has had to jump through some hoops, as they say in the U.S., but all is well now and she is itching to get back to work."

Martin paused a moment and wondered to himself how you can get a PhD in God. "So I suppose you have heard the story about the vicar and his broken hip," he said frowning. "And about Mrs. Tishell. I think you have me at a disadvantage Luk."

Thankfully our order came then and Luk began to eat, in earnest I noticed. "Oh no, I don't think of it that way," he said. "I feel sorry that my predecessor had a problem with alcohol. That happens sometimes, especially when priests don't marry I have noticed," he said. "I know that some feel differently, but I have just noticed that we Anglicans seem to do better in community most of the time. I know that I don't know what I would do without Natalie. And the interim priest has made things easy for me. So far everyone has been very friendly. And the problem with Mrs. Tishell. Well, that is so sad. But I understand that she is doing well and that her marriage seems to be back on track now that her husband is with her permanently. Loneliness can take its toll, right?"

"Yes. I suppose so," Martin replied.

"Our problem now is that we can't seem to find a replacement organist. Those seem hard to find. Especially in a small village. You don't know anyone in London who might like to come to the coast do you? I talked to Roger Fenn but he says he doesn't do 'stops and pedals'." He smiled.

"No I don't know anyone," Martin said, but then thought better. "My Aunt Ruth might, though. I think she attended church fairly regularly when she lived in London so she might know of someone. I could ask her if you like." Is this really me, Martin asked himself? Monosyllabic Martin? Somehow this young priest was bringing out conversation. Wonder of wonders!

"That would be great." He paused a moment. "I don't think I have met anyone named Ruth though. What does she look like?" he asked.

Martin briefly described Ruth to him and he shook his head. "No, I don't believe we have met but I don't get to meet everyone on Sundays. The folks around here like to talk, don't they, and while I am talking to one person, three or four walk around and out the door. She may have been at services and I just haven't said hello. Please ask her about the organist, though. I am playing guitar for the services for now, but there is a nice organ and I hate to see it just sitting unused."

The two men continued to eat in companionable silence. Amazing! A villager who didn't see the need for constant conversation. Martin could actually hear himself think around this man. Oh well, if his wife wasn't "too American" they could probably have a decent dinner tomorrow night, he thought.

"Where do you think we should go tomorrow night, Doctor? We haven't been here long enough to know restaurants and especially one where we can take babies."

Martin thought for a moment then grunted. "I guess if we are going out Luk, you should call me Martin. And I really don't know of anywhere to eat either. Not one for going out a lot. Sorry." Did he just do that? Ask Luk to call him Martin? Oh well, he HAD promised Louisa. Maybe this would help things along - help both of them.

"Well, Martin, why don't I ask some of the parishioners then? I am really missing my Leffe Blonde - you know we Belgians like to have a good beer. Not much," he said quickly as he saw Martin's frown. "Just one with dinner. Maybe someone can tell me about a family-friendly pub. "Sounds fine," Martin said, and glanced at his watch. "I think I need to be going as I see it is time for afternoon patients to start. Nice to meet you, um, Luk," Martin said and held out his hand for a handshake.

"Nice to finally meet you too, Martin," he said. "Now that I have met the village superman I can feel more a part of things."

"I would hardly..." Martin began, but Luk just grinned and lifted his hand to stop Martin.

"See you tomorrow evening then Martin," he said.