Two Weeks

Martin was paying the bills when his eye fell on his desk calendar with an intent look. Hm. It's been two weeks since our marriage. He put his cheque book away, binned used envelopes, placed the mail in a neat stack on Pauline's desk to be sent on Monday and then filed the receipts and payment statements in their personal files in the locked cabinet in his office. He heard Lousia humming out in the kitchen, so he followed her voice.

Louisa was arranging a collection of late season flowers in a vase on the table. She stepped back to admire the bouquet when she heard Martin's footfalls. "Hi!" she said brightly.

"Hello. Flowers, I see."

"From the garden and street verge."

He nodded. He appreciated flowers but had little knowledge of them.

Lousia turned to Martin and held out her arms, so he entered her embrace. She rested her face against his shoulder. "Joan was pleased, I think."

"Hm?" Then he realized what she meant. "Oh, the, um, our announcement. Fortunately, a private one so far." But he knew that the news would spread quickly for the village had an unhealthy interest in gossip of all kinds.

Lousia nestled closer to him as she bit her lips. "I… I did… Martin… I told my secretary," She stammered, "so Sally Chadwick knows."

"You told her?" Martin replied in dismay. "In God's name why?"

"You see, she guessed. I didn't tell her. But Martin, I was so sick and in the loo at school when she came in and figured the whole out."

Martin groaned, "Now she'll tell the whole village."

Lousia drew back to look at Martin. "No, I don't think so. But would that be so bad? I mean," her hand dropped to her belly, which if not actually larger, did feel bloated. "It will be obvious." Her hand lingered over her waist. "Things… will be clear to all."

Martin heard her breath catch. "Problem?" he asked.

She shrugged. "Am I getting bigger? Sort feels like it, a little." She looked down, inspecting her front. She still wondered at the reality of it all, and of course the awesome implications and responsibilities of parenthood. Me? Pregnant? She thought. Buck up, my dear, she thought.

Martin cleared his throat. Yes, Louisa, he thought, your breasts are larger – firmer and fuller – and your belly is showing a little, since you are a fairly slender woman. "Um, perhaps." He knew that women were sensitive about weight gain, and pregnancy with all the changes of hormones, size, shape and weight gain, would likely drive more sensitive ones mad. "Maybe not."

Lousia still peered down. "Well, my brassiere does feel tight, and I swear…" her voice began to shake. "This is actually happening, isn't it?"

He could only nod, and make a hard swallow.

She sighed, then shook herself. "Right, you know, this is our second anniversary?"

"What? Anniversary? We've only been married for two…" Oh. "Weeks. Not quite an anniversary, is it? Reserved for the annual thing.

She took his hand and smiled. "Even so," she grinned at him. "We should go out to dinner."

Martin protested. "But I already bought a fish this morning." He did not like to eat out, especially here in the village for he hated to be accosted at dinner by waitstaff pulling up a sleeve or shirt to ask him about burns, bumps, rashes or scratches. It was far too wearing and intrusive.

Lousia patted his shoulder while giving him a huge smile. "It'll keep. I'll go up and change; a dress not jeans."

Martin liked to see her wearing jeans, but he told her, "A dress would be good, yes."

"How about that new place over in Port Gavernne?" she asked as she went upstairs.

"Which one?" Martin was puzzled.

She turned on the landing to look down at him. "The Safe Harbour? I heard it's good."

"Hm, fine. Yes." While Louis was upstairs Martin pulled up the website for the place on his computer and checked out the menu. He thought it seemed adequate, and of course Lousia could not eat any of the shellfish. But they had plenty of other choices, so he walked upstairs to shave.

Lousia was in the bathroom when he got to the first floor, and he saw her entire Saturday ensemble of jeans, cardi, and underwear thrown in a rumpled pile on the bed. Clearing an entire change of wardrobe was required. Through the bathroom door he heard water running and his wife singing.

=0=0=0=

The food was good, and being over the way in Port Gavernne it was a welcome change from the four Portwenn eating places, not counting the chippy.

Martin could tell that Lousia was in a very good mood and as he gazed at her across the table could not but notice her skin was clear under the light sheen of makeup, and her long hair, worn down tonight, was glossy and shining. She was smiling a lot, flashing her green eyes at him. The dress she had selected was burgundy pattern on a lighter cream background, scoop necked dress, not belted. It was new and he recalled she got it this Fall. A small garnet stone graced the hollow of her throat, and he recalled it was left to her at the death of her grandmother on her father's side. He glanced down at the platinum ring he wore on his right hand, a keepsake from his grandfather. He was the one who got him interested in biology as a young child. Dissecting flowers, an apple and finally a mouse which the neighbor's cat had caught and killed. He could still remember the intricacies of the tiny body and the wonder when told that he too had heart, lungs and so forth. That was his first actual lesson in physiology and much later, every time that he operated, his memory filled with that lesson sitting at his grandfather's desk.

Back in the present, though, Martin noticed that in the restaurant each of the diners would give him and Lousia a look; mostly smiles. Louisa would smile back or give them a little wave. He, on the other hand, just had to apply his excellent medical memory and diagnostic skills 'naming' each with their illnesses or syndromes. Diabetes, high blood pressure, cataracts, partial deafness, arthritis, hammer toe, obesity, heart murmur, and so on.

He looked back to his wife, when she touched his hand. "Yes?" he asked.

"You looked so far away. What are you doing?"

He began to adjust his teaspoon, as yet untouched on the table. "Ahem, nothing."

"You're diagnosing, aren't you?"

"Well, no…"

Then an ancient diner shuffled over to them. The old woman asked if he could look at her aching ankle, but Lousia skillfully interrupted. "Oh, Mrs. Blevins," she answered soothingly, "I'm sorry to hear that you uncomfortable, and Martin, Dr. Ellingham will be very glad to examine you, but," she shrugged, "not just now? Okay? Perhaps you could rest it tomorrow, it being Sunday, and see him on Monday? You know he's not on call all the time."

The old dame patted Lousia's hand. "Sorry, Louiser. Just thought I'd avail myself of the opportunity, and I do 'pologize you bein' newlyweds," she winked at them both, "and out on the town. And oh, my don't you look beautiful, don't she Doc?" She turned a gap-toothed smile at Martin who cringed at the sight. "Seems like marriage suits you both! Why don't you look just blooming! Like a flower!" she cackled and then shuffled away.

Martin whispered to Lousia. "What did I say? Cannot eat a meal in peace," he harrumphed.

Lousia watched Mrs. Blevins slowly make her way across the room to her chair where she was dining with her sister. "Oh, she's alright."

Martin started to take a big breath to protest when Louisa took his hand across the table. "Martin, it's fine. She, Mrs. Blevins, was a good friend of my grandmother," she told him.

Martin knew that Lousia knew everyone in the room, old and young and of course he realized it was a depth of knowledge he would never gain. In many ways he would always be an outsider. Always be a grockle, townie or outsider. "Hm."

"She didn't mean any harm."

"Louisa," he lowered his voice, "if she would continue taking the NSAIDS as I told her…"

"Martin?" Lousia's flashed. "Shush." It was the very same tone of voice she had used on the airplane, that trip when they first met. Louisa winced as soon as she said it. "Martin, I apologize," she added.

He was occupied with his table linen. "Hm?" He looked up. She was so beautiful as she looked at him with a slightly sad look. "Problem?"

She took his hand again. "Martin, two weeks?"

He nodded. "Right. It's… been a busy time."

Louisa sighed. "Not exactly how we thought it might go, yes?"

Martin looked away for a moment. "But, we are here…. together."

Louisa looked deeply into his eyes as he watched her closely. "Martin," she whispered, "I was wrong to… even think… about… I mean… what if we – you and me – we'd not gone ahead? Ahem, made it to the altar?"

He was thinking the same thing. "If I'd let you leave two Saturdays ago? I… I don't know how I could stay on here."

She squeezed his hand. "Me too."

Martin was about to tell her how happy he was that they had gotten married and how beautiful she was, when the Blevins woman and her sister got up to go, and had to stop for one more attempt at gaining medical advice.

"Doc, about my foot," Mrs. Blevins started to say.

"No, no!" Martin hissed. "We are having dinner. Now shoo!"

The old woman glared at him. "Worth a try, you know."

As the old lady and her sister left the restaraunt, Lousia was stifling a laugh behind a slim hand.