Surprising

Louisa had warned him over breakfast to brace himself for a verbal and prying onslaught. "The village will want to know," she'd said, as he ate his meal.

"Yes," he said curtly.

"So, you'd better have a story ready."

"Story?"

"An explanation then. Chins will be wagging. Have been."

"I know," he groaned.

"I spread the word to my teachers that I'm fine, you are fine, and that Mr. Strain had been taken ill and was now in treatment at hospital."

Martin sighed as he munched on his bacon. "You are fortunate that nothing bad actually happened."

She looked at him soulfully. "I know. Been thinking about that."

"Louisa…" he touched her hand which she grasped. "And, as I said, fortunate that he didn't harm the children."

She nodded. "Oh God, yes." She squared her shoulders. "Scared them though. I'll be sending a note home to the parents explaining, in the simplest way, what happened."

Martin shook his head. "Sugar-coating it."

Louisa's head slumped. "That's my plan." She rubbed her belly where she felt kicking. "You're okay, aren't you?" she asked.

"Me? Of course I am!"

"I… was talking to the baby. Kicking."

"Right." Martin bolted the rest of his food, then stood up, picking up his empty plate. He held out his hand for hers. "Finished?"

Louisa smiled. "Best be off." She frowned. "My teachers will be full of chatter today, about the…"

Martin sighed. "Incident."

Louisa got up, grunting a little.

Alarmed, Martin asked, "Are you alright?"

She smiled, touching her large belly. "This gets in the way. Seems I don't have a waist anymore."

"I have noticed."

"Martin! Are you saying I'm getting fat?" Louisa erupted, half in anger.

Martin ducked his head. "No. But you are pregnant."

Louisa nodded. "I have noticed," she said, then smiled at him.

Martin, who preferred to get through his day, if not his very existence, in privacy, was extremely visible to the village. Not that he was invisible in any way, of course, given his manner, height and sometimes forbidding face, but now?

His patients that day were more annoying than usual, prying into what had happened on the beach the day before.

Each one had their own incorrect idea about what had happened, ranging from the more empathetic expressing concern for the outsider, to the most outré; thinking that Louisa had been injured, nearly drowned or their in-utero child-to-be was now in extremis. Worse were those who thought that Martin had to pummel Strain with a rock, had almost been stabbed, etcetera.

Martin and to brush their comments off with a curt, "A patient had an episode. It is over and they are in hospital. Now, as to you medical issue today…"

He recalled a sign posted in an anatomy lab in training. It had read. "It's not that I don't like people, but I prefer them when they don't speak." Considering that there were only corpses in the lab it made perfect sense.

That day he had to make a trip to the co-op over lunch for bread, eggs, milk and sugar, when he rounded the aisle end and found his aunt peering up at him. "Aunt Joan."

"Hello, Marty," she greeted him.

She was the only person who ever called him 'Marty' and he permitted it. Hearing her say it took him back to his childhood. "Yes…" he hefted his carry basket. "Shopping."

Joan looked hard at him. "Heard you were in a dust-up yesterday."

He sighed.

"But you are fine and so is Louisa," she stated levelly. Then she raised one eyebrow. "Am I right?"

He nodded. "It was unusual, but yes." He had reflected that the violent encounter on the beach must be similar to some of his other aunt's patient sessions; but of course Ruth worked in the prison system with those who committed actual heinous crimes – such as murder and assault.

Joan wiped her eyes. "Baby's fine as well?" she asked, her voice cracking.

Martin cleared his throat. "No harm done."

"And all those little-un's from school," she mused. "God only knows what might have…"

Martin cut her off with a sharp, "Stop!" Those were the nightmares which he'd had in the night.

Joan tipped her head towards the cashier. "Audrey over there must have called me just minutes after it happened. Told me the whole thing. But her house is across the street from the beach. Saw the whole thing."

Martin looked towards the woman, gave his a 'thumbs up.' "Then you know the details."

"Essentially. What was wrong with Strain?"

"I can't discuss it."

"But he was ill – not insane."

Martin opened his mouth, then closed it. "Joan, you know I cannot discuss a patient."

Joan held up a hand in surrender. "Fine. Fine." She gave him a one-armed hug. "I'm so glad that you, Louisa and the baby are fine."

Technically it's not a baby yet, he thought, but he didn't want to quibble over the point with her. He just nodded.

"I'll have you out to the house for dinner, if you like," she said.

"Yes, that would be…"

"Here's our hero!" came a booming voice from the doorway as Chippy Miller entered.

Martin sneered for the fisherman was a repeat visitor to surgery with a variety of ailments, usually involving reported sprains, an occasional burn, or infected splinter. Each time he'd requested Martin to fill out a disability form. He was not too strong on the work ethic.

"Hello, Chippy," Joan told him. "Martin was just…"

Chippy limped over, favoring his left leg. "Doc! Fantastic job yesterday! Took that fellow down I hear! And without Joe Penhale' help as well!"

Martin cleared his throat "Yes. Goodbye Aunt Joan, I'll just finish my shopping." He turned and practically ran over to the fruit and veg, picking up items at random trying to escape the man. It was to no avail, though.

Chippy gimped up to Martin. "I see you're stocking up on fruit and veg." he looked down and patted his fat tummy. "I been trying to lay off the chips but…" he shrugged. "Oh well."

"Good nutrition is important." Martin stepped away.

Unsurprisingly Chippy limped after him, "Now Doc, it's about my leg."

Martin sighed. "The left one this time?"

"Aye. Slippery deck, and down I went."

Falls were all part of the man's repertory. Martin's excellent memory told him that in the last year Chippy Miller had suffered eight knee or ankle sprains. Somehow those 'disabilities' never stopped him from climbing Roscarrock Hill to surgery or walking to the pub. "Mr. Miller! How many times have I told you…"

"I know, I know," Chippy said smiling. "But since, I'm here and you're here, I just thought."

"Make an appointment!" Martin stomped away to the cashier, paid for his purchases, cut off the woman brashly when she tried to make conversation and left as quickly as possible.

Back at surgery he put away the groceries, bolted some soup down, a piece of buttered bread and tea, then was ready for the afternoon, just as Pauline arrived after lunch break.

Pauline came into the kitchen as Martin was cleaning his dishes. "Ah, Doc, we were busy this morning, so I didn't get a chance to ask…"

Martin held up his hand, "Pauline, yes, yes, I know. Louisa is fine, I am fine, and our baby is fine."

"Oh, Doc, I know that! Geeze! I was going to ask for Friday afternoon off. Something I need to get done - have done."

Prepared for an argument, the wind was taken out of sails. "That might be acceptable, if the patient schedule is not too heavy."

She smiled. "You only have two patients. One at one and the other at half-one. I um, I blocked out the rest of the afternoon, guessing it would be okay."

"Pauline! You didn't ask first."

Her face blanched. "Sorry."

He sighed in return. "Yes. Fine. Go."

She shook her head. "It's not any fun, Doc. Just a checkup."

"Um, Pauline, I'd be only too glad to examine you."

She shook her head. "It's a visit with my gynecologist, Doc, and I'm thinking you'd not want to…" she smiled.

Martin recoiled with discomfort. "Yes! Yes, I mean no. I mean take the time! Take as much time as you need!"

Grinning ear-to-ear, Pauline left the kitchen, happy that she had surprised the Doc.

Author's note: It appears that the fanfiction doc net email notification system has once again failed, for the umpteenth time.