Family

The next day after school, Louisa was in the co-op when Martin's aunt drove up to make a delivery of vegetables. The two women greeted one another with a hug. Louisa saw Buddy, Joan's dog in her truck when she arrived.

Joan was beaming when she asked, "And how are you, Louisa? That nephew of mine treating you well?"

Louisa smiled back. "Oh fine, I…" she stopped.

"Something wrong?" Joan asked, her face dropping into suspicion. "I just knew…"

"No, no, Joan it's fine…" Louisa paused.

She replayed in her mind what Martin said to her after dinner the previous night.

He'd just returned from treating old Mr. Routledge and had joined Louisa on their sofa. Louisa set aside her school papers to pay him full attention when he started to speak.

"Stinky, nasty place! And the smell? God." He exhaled deeply. "Old man hermit smell, right? Spoiled food, stale sweat and filthy clothing! Routledge had let a small craft knife, you know, the ones with the round handles? Rolled right off his table where he was wood carving. Stuck point down right into his leg. And then of course the idiot pulled it out. Blood…" he had to swallow hard, as he told the tale.

"Everywhere," Louisa finished for him.

Her husband nodded. "Yessss," he hissed. "But three small sutures closed the wound. I put him on antibiotics."

Louisa wrinkled her nose. "Since his home is so dirty."

"And the man himself." Martin gulped. "Louisa, I ought not to have told you that. Patient confidentiality."

She nodded. "I understand. Blowing off steam." Mr. Routledge had been a widower for nearly ten years and since he stopped working at the quarry he'd become quite a curmudgeon to the village. Always complaining and moaning about this and that. Even complained to the council about the noisy seagulls. "And I'm sure he complained about…"

"Right. Everything. Me, the village, the injury, and the world in general." Martin sighed as he rubbed his face. "When I was a surgeon after surgery, I'd prepare a post-op report, on paper of course, and I suppose…"

Louisa took his hand. "Decompressing."

He got up and took his hand away. "Tea?"

"No thank you." She'd drunk some of the decaf stuff after he'd left, and the taste had stuck with her.

Martin turned away. "Ah, right. I'll have some anyway." Then he busied himself with the kettle. Then he turned around. "We should have dinner with Joan as you said."

Louisa looked hard at the man, a surgeon out of his element here in Portwenn. Earaches, winging moaners, and the occasional real serious ailment. "Thank you for treating him."

"Who?"

"Mr. Routledge."

Martin looked hard at her. "It's my job."

"Well, you could have told him to stick a plaster on it and see you in the morning."

Martin sighed. "I doubt he had any plasters, nor could find them in that hovel, if he did."

Louisa bit her lip. "Do you think he'd let the public health aides clean up the house? And him?"

Martin shrugged. "No idea. And don't you think for a moment that I'll let you wade into that, that, bacteria infested swamp, not in your condition."

"So, we should let him stew in his own juice? Honestly, Martin. Don't be so mean!"

Martin had struggled to get words out. "Louisa, I'm just saying that for your safety…"

Louisa knew there were others in the village like Routledge; lonely, poor and sick. "He has no one, Martin. Wife dead. He had a brother but he's dead as well. No kids." She paused. "His missus used to help out in Sunday School when I was little." She drew herself up. "So, yes, someone should do something. He's got no family at all."

Martin took a towel, sprayed the kitchen counter with a cleanser and began to wipe it with long and precise motions.

Louisa watched her semi-germophobic and picky husband as he cleaned what was an already clean counter.

Finally, he turned to look at her. "About my aunt."

"Yes?"

"We spoke about dinner."

"Oh right, tomorrow?"

He ducked his head. "Perhaps." His face took on a strange look. "We ought to inform her of… ahem…" his hand holding the towel pointed in her direction.

"That I'm pregnant."

Martin sighed. "Right."

That induced Louisa to go over to her husband and wrap her arms around him.

"What's this for?" he asked into her hair.

So here Louisa was facing Joan and the time seemed right. She smiled at Martin's aunt; now her aunt as well. "Martin wants to have you for dinner, I mean serve you dinner. At our house."

Joan shook her head. "I've been forcing myself to stay away; no need to have an old biddy like me around the newlyweds."

"Oh, Joan, you aren't a bother! Would tonight work?"

"I'll have to check my social calendar…" Joan's face cracked into a smile. "Sure." She looked at her watch. "When? May I bring something?"

"Oh, come about 5:15? Just bring yourself." Louisa asked, biting her lip, wondering what Martin might have planned for this evening. Well, no matter, she thought. He'll just have to buck up.

The two women parted, and Louisa made another stop at the fish mongers and then home carrying bags of food for their dinner.

At the house, Martin was in his office writing when he heard Louisa enter the kitchen.

"Hi!" Louisa announced. "I brought food!"

Martin quickly walked to the kitchen.

Louisa was juggling a handbag, hobo bag and laptop case, plus four blue and white striped bags from the co-op plus a newspaper wrapped parcel.

He swiftly relieved her of the food. "What's all this?"

"Dinner. Aunt Joan will be joining us."

"Hm, I bought a fish, not enough, I think."

Louisa grinned as she set the package containing two bream on the counter. "Enough?"

Martin ducked his head. "Yes."

=0=0=0=

The meal had gone down well, and even Louisa ate heartily. She hoped that the food would stay down where it was supposed to, this time.

Martin prepared coffee for himself and his aunt, while Louisa served out the crumble. When she sat down across from Martin, she stared over at him with a pointed look, trying to get his attention.

Finally, he looked back at his wife trying to discern her silent message.

Louisa gave a mental shrug and launched the conversation. "Joan?"

"Yes, Louisa," Joan said after having some crumble. "Fine crumble, I wonder who made it?" she chuckled.

Louisa launched herself into the subject. "I wondered if you have any old photos of Martin, from when he was a boy?"

Joan scraped the last of her crumble from her dish, ate it, and then licked the spoon. "Suppose so. Likely in the attic or maybe the shed. Have to have a think."

Louisa smiled. "I'd like to have some, if you can find them."

Martin cleared his throat to get her attention, with an expression on his face asking, 'why is this coming up?'

Ignoring his look, Louisa forged on after taking a deep breath. She stood up, went around the table to stand next to Martin, putting her hands on his shoulders.

Martin craned his neck to look up at her, so she took his head and tipped it back down.

"Martin and I…" Louisa began to announce. "We want to say…"

Martin interrupted with, "Right! Aunt Joan it's nearly time for annual blood tests and a bone scan to measure your bone density," he burst out with.

Louisa chuckled, then bit her lip. "Well, that may be Martin, but… um, wasn't there something else we want to tell Aunt Joan? She is family."

Warily, Joan stiffened, for she wondered what predicament Marty had gotten himself into this time? "Don't tell me you are moving?"

Martin bristled. "No. We're staying."

"That's good," Joan said, "with Christmas coming up and all." She relaxed. "Perhaps I can give you some of my Christmas things? Been in the family for years." She looked into the front room. "That corner between the windows would be perfect for a tree."

Martin's mind was racing. Was Louisa about to tell their news? He stood up and stared at her, asking the question with his eyes.

Louisa nodded yes.

Oh God, Martin thought. Now? Why now? "Louisa," he muttered. "No."

Despite his words, Louisa put an arm around his waist. "Joan… Auntie Joan?"

Joan was still looking at the far corner, reminiscing about past Holidays and her late husband. She turned her head and saw Louisa with a nervous smile fixed on her face and Martin looking like he'd done something wrong. "What's happened?"

Martin relied, "Um… nothing."

Louisa held out her hand to Joan who took it in hers. "Joan, it's about family. You see..."

Joan stared at the two of them. Louisa's face suddenly glowing, with her back ramrod straight and was her jumper fuller on top? Bustier? Martin was fidgeting, trying to look, no get away. Suddenly the penny dropped. "Family?"

Louisa smiled and hugged Joan. "Joan, we're having a baby!"

A coast walker, arriving late at his B&B, was just passing the Doc's cottage when he heard a loud female shriek. He hoped it was a cry of joy and not sorrow. He'd heard stories about the local GP. Miserable and rude bugger they say, but that morning he'd got a glance of the Head Teacher the GP had married. A looker; a real Cornish beauty. He hoped they were getting on. So maybe that was a happy yell? Then the man hurried to his place for the night as it began to drizzle.