Many, many thanks to everyone who read and especially those who reviewed the beginning of this story. I have never had such a response to a story before and it really was uplifting to see that so many liked what I wrote. I originally intended the story to be a oneshot but so many people said I should continue that I thought I'd give it a try. Maintaining the emotional tone of the first chapter will be tough; it is a dark place Martin Ellingham is in. Here's hoping I can live up to expectations.

He dreaded the appointment but he had promised and it had been a condition for her to stay, so he would do it; he would do anything for her to stay. The days between her declaration that she would remain and his appointment were tense but not in the same way things had been before that horrid day when he felt his life shatter. He knew he was making the tension worse with his constant checking on her, feeling her pulse, checking her eyes, asking about her pain; but he couldn't help himself. A compulsion to take care of her drove him to it until she would order him out of the room, away from her. Thankfully she would relent after an hour, sometimes less, and let him come back to her; he needed that, to see and touch her. As he drove to Truro for the meeting with the therapist, he made himself remember that awful day, remember why he was doing this. It helped him move past his discomfort.

The therapist, Dr. Frederick Engelmann, asked him questions, so many questions. Many were similar in nature to ones he might ask in his surgery, general information queries to gather background on the patient. He abhorred this intrusion into his privacy but when it became too much, Martin Ellingham remembered the sight of Louisa on the pavement that horrible day. And he had promised. One of the things Louisa admired about him was his honesty, even if it was hurtful at times. It would be dishonest to her if he did not do as he had promised and work with the therapist. Besides, he knew he would have to change if he was going to be with her. Aunt Ruth had told him he had to change and if he couldn't to leave her alone. But he couldn't do that, leave her alone. He needed her. So he tried to answer the questions without too much acrimony.

Then Engelmann asked him a more difficult question, "Why are you here?"

Martin considered his answer carefully. Remembering his confession to Louisa in the operating room, he knew the answer. "I want to be a better husband…and father. I don't seem to be very good at it and… I want to."

"Why do you think you are not good at it?" The man seemed genuinely curious.

Staring at the other man mutely, Martin was stymied. How could he answer that one? Glancing away, various scenes played in his mind, scenes of him with Louisa, failing. "I don't seem capable of making my wife happy. I say the wrong things, do the wrong things, even when I'm trying to please her. And I've…withdrawn, making it more and more difficult for her to …" his mind wandered as he thought over the last few months.

"Withdrawn?" Engelmann asked. The question brought his mind back into focus and his attention snapped back to his therapist. "Yes, I…I find it more and more difficult to understand what she wants or needs and everything I say or do seems to frustrate her so I just… draw back. She says she wants one thing and then I find she really wants something else entirely… It is all so very confusing, you see."

"The opposite sex is often confusing," Engelmann said evenly.

"Yes, but… normally I don't care. Other than my Aunt Joan, I've never really been close to … to a woman," he said hesitantly. To anyone, he thought.

"No one…ever?" Engelmann seemed surprised.

"There was one other…sort of. I thought I loved her when I was in med school. I thought I wanted to marry her but she took a job in Canada and left."

"That must have hurt?"

He frowned. Did it hurt when Edith left? "I depended on my work to sustain me. It was the focus of my life. Being a surgeon was my life. But then I developed haemophobia and everything changed. I went from being a highly successful vascular surgeon at St. Thomas' in London to the GP in a backwaters tin box village filled with idiots." As difficult as that was, giving up surgery he had survived and even done reasonably well, he thought. But now he'd be rubbish without Louisa; he didn't think he could survive that, not really.

"Surely there were other opportunities?"

"Possibly. But I had spent childhood holidays there and my Aunt Joan was living there so I thought… well, I thought it would be good to return."

"You were close to this Aunt Joan?"

"She loved me…like a son."

"And how do you feel about her?"

Closing his eyes to restrain his emotions, Martin remembered his promise to Louisa. "I loved her. She … died."

Engelmann asked other questions, most about his relationship with Joan and then with his parents. Thankfully the questions weren't too involved and Martin tried to answer but talking about them was difficult, so he didn't go into detail. Besides, how could he explain his parents to anyone? "And your wife…Louisa?" Engelmann's question felt like a laser scalpel, cutting right to his core, burning as it cut through the flesh. Martin couldn't help the tears that gathered in his eyes. Embarrassed, he tried to fight them which stalled his ability to respond.

"You love her?" came a follow up a moment or two later.

"Very much… always… since the day I met her, although I didn't realize it right away. She…she is my life; nothing is right without her." Engelmann jotted some notes quickly before looking up and asking, "She is your life, in place of being a surgeon? Have you told her this?"

"Yes, sort of…in a way."

"When? How long ago?"

"Umm… before we married."

"And since you've been married?"

"I tried…at first. But then…"

"I think we've covered enough today," Engelmann suddenly announced. "But there is one thing you must do before you come back next week."

Martin frowned at him. "What?"

"Tell her again." Martin swallowed. It wouldn't be easy; there was such a distance between them. Then Engelmann made it even more difficult. "In fact, perhaps you should say it to her everyday until next week. Consider it your assignment for the week. Tell your wife everyday what she means to you."

Martin's drive back to Port Wenn became one long practice session for ways to tell Louisa what he felt about her, how very much she meant to him. Formulating the words in his head came easily enough, he mused. Getting them through his mouth was another matter.