The afternoon sun was fading slowly as two friends sat laughing and sighing over tea like they had for years. The familiarity of their positions – sitting across a table, sharing stories and hardships and smiles – was one of their fondest occupations.
"How nice for you that Timothy is willing to take Angela on an outing to the cinema. I should think he would be eager to see his friends now that he is on holiday." Sister Julienne's smile was warm as her eyes searched the Turner dining table for honey before adding some to her tea.
"Quite," Shelagh sighed happily. "It's been difficult for Angela while he's away at university. She's been writing to him every week. Well," she chuckled, "I've been writing to him based on her dictation. Her handwriting is as bad as her father's."
Sister Julienne laughed. She had sampled the little girl's penmanship several times through delightful drawings or thank-you notes. Though she was progressing, and she still sometimes transposed lowercase D for B, it was quite a chore to read her hurried little hand.
"Actually," Shelagh continued, offering another biscuit to her friend, "I think Timothy was just as excited to spend some time with her as she was him. He tries to hide it, but he's so terribly fond of her."
Sister Julienne watched as Shelagh's cheeks flushed in happy contentedness. She glanced at her watch. "Goodness, Shelagh, I've been here almost two hours. You must have so many things to do…" She began to rise from the table before being waved back to her seat by her hostess.
"Oh, come now, Sister, you know better than anyone that I do my best work in the early morning. All of my chores were done long before the children were even out of bed." A peaceful understanding passed over them. Many years had passed since they had worked together in the convent, and over time the awkwardness of discussing their shared past had all but disappeared. Shelagh's life still included her former sisters and vice versa; today's impromptu tea was a lovely chance to catch up on life at Nonnatus House.
"And anyway, you can't leave until they get back. I want you to see how Timothy's grown. Don't mention it – he's very sensitive – but I think he's added another four or five centimeters since you last saw him! He'll be as tall as Dr. Turner before the school year's out…" Her eyes moved to the clock on the piano and a fraction of a frown appeared on her face. "I thought they would be home by now."
Ten minutes later the two women were laughing at a story about one of the new midwives and polishing off their third cup of tea each. When the front door opened the sound of Angela's excited voice filled the hall.
"But don't you think it was the loveliest dress you ever saw, Tim? I do, I think it was the most, most, most beautiful dress in the whole world! Mummy let me look at her wedding dress once and it was so, so pretty but did you see how beautiful that one was, Tim? I'm going to wear one just like it when I get married. Did you – Oh! Sister Julienne!"
Angela Turner stopped in the living room doorway and released the hand of one favorite person to run and retrieve the hands of another. A tall shadow moved out of sight before he could be acknowledged. The nun remained seated – she knew children preferred adults to be eye-level – but her smile was infectious and full as she held the little girl's hands and swung them gently.
"Hello, Angela, how are you today?" Her voice was like velvet, always so welcome. Many times she had tried to hide her favoritism for the Turner girl, but it was something she had ultimately accepted.
Angela's eyes widened. "Oh I am so, so wonderful today, Sister! My brother's home, did you know?" She looked around. "Tim! Tim, Sister's here! Timothy?" She released Sister Julienne's hands and ran to the hall. The women at the table exchanged a humorous glance when they heard murmurings of the child scolding her brother for being rude, then watched as she tugged him through the doorway and stood next to him proudly.
"Here he is!"
"Well, hello, Timothy! Or do you prefer Tim now?" Sister Julienne now stood and set aside the napkin in her lap, grinning at this boy who was quickly becoming a man. Shelagh was right: he had grown. His shoulders were slumped in an attempt to hide his height, causing his long and shaggy hair to fall forward onto his forehead. His features were more pronounced and masculine than they had been last Summer. The eyes were the same, though: bright, intelligent, hiding a bit of cheeky dark humor.
"Either's fine, Sister." His voice was much deeper than she remembered. He extended a large hand and she took it, covering it fondly with her other.
Shelagh began stacking plates and cups on the ledge of the kitchen hatch. "How was your film? What did you see?"
"Oh Mummy, oh Mummy!" Angela's enthusiasm was visible as she rocked to her tiptoes and wrung her hands. "It was called The Sound of Music and I've never seen anything so lovely in my whole life! It was absolutely wonderful! Even Tim liked it, didn't you, Tim?"
His grumble and shrug tried to show indifference, but Shelagh watched the crooked smirk appear on his face that she knew so well. Before Angela started again, he met his mother's eyes and smiled in full. "It really hit close to home," he muttered.
"I thought you would really, really like it, Sister, because there were nuns in it! Some of them were not so nice but the one sang a song and she was lovely, just like you." The girl's hand slipped into the nun's. "But oh! Oh Mummy the girl was a nun too! She was a nun just like Sister Julienne and Sister 'Vangelina and she went to be the gov- the gov—"
"Governess," Timothy piped up.
"Yes, the gov'ness of all these children and she fell in love with the daddy and they got married! But then they had to run away because there were these really awful men who were chasing them! And they sang all these songs…"
The jumbled synopsis continued for a few more minutes as Sister Julienne nodded in feigned interest. She loved this little girl dearly, but at this moment she was acutely aware of Shelagh's sudden change in demeanor and the slowness of her gestures. She was carrying the tea things in the kitchen from the hatch to the sink, trying to act casual but failing. Timothy was watching her from the kitchen doorway with a bottle of Coke to his lips, gauging her movements as Angela prattled on about the nun falling so in love with the father that she had to leave the church to marry him.
"Oh, and Mummy, you should have seen her wedding dress! It was almost as beautiful as yours! Almost. Can I see your dress again, Mummy, can I?"
Shelagh sighed from the kitchen, "May I see…"
"Yes, may I see your dress again, Mum, oh please?"
"Perhaps another time, Angela, we have a guest right now."
Angela turned back to Sister Julienne excitedly and took her other hand. "Have you seen Mummy's wedding dress, Sister? It's the most beautiful dress in the whole world! She keeps it in a pink box upstairs but I'll bet she'll show it to you if you really want to see it…"
Timothy shifted in the doorway, "'Course she's seen it, Ange, she was at Mum and Dad's wedding."
Angela's eyes were wide. "Were you really, Sister?"
"I was, and I remember that it was very beautiful. It was a wonderful day."
"Have you ever been married, Sister Julienne?"
"Angela!" Shelagh's face burnt crimson from embarrassment. Her apologetic look toward Sister Julienne was accepted with a warm smile.
She leaned down to Angela's level, stroking the girl's knuckles with her thumbs. "No, my dear, I've not been married, not in the way that you mean. Though as we've discussed before, this ring," she raised her right hand, "is a symbol of my betrothal to God. It is His service to which I am tied for all my life, as a married woman is to her husband."
Angela looked at the ring and touched it gently. Her face was set in concentration, which the nun recognized from their extensive talks on "important matters," like Angela's favorite music or how the Noakes boy was teasing her again at playtime or her loneliness for her brother while he was away at school. Like her mother, she developed a tiny crease between her eyebrows and a little pout as her bottom lip stiffened. It was difficult not to laugh at such a serious look of concern on such a jovial face.
"Sister? Do you think it could ever really happen?" Her voice was very small.
She tried to match the child's somber tone of voice. "Do I think what could happen, Angela?"
"Do you think a nun could fall in love with someone who wasn't God? Like in the movie?"
The piercing sound of the Turners' teapot shattering on the kitchen tile freed Sister Julienne from answering. She rushed with Angela to the doorway where Timothy stood, all of them staring at Shelagh standing over large shards of porcelain lying in a puddle of tea. Her hands were still in front of her as if to hold the broken pot, her face ashen.
Without prompting Timothy placed his hands on his sister's shoulders and steered her from the room, muttering something about sharp objects and playing a game. Her protestations could be heard as they climbed the stairs together.
Sister Julienne remained silent while they picked up the remaining pieces of the teapot. She did not know what she could say to ease the tension in the room. Evidently Shelagh and Dr. Turner had not extensively discussed their premarital relationship with their daughter. She was hardly six years old, after all, and the complexity of the Turner history was enough to astound even the most worldly of adults. Angela's curious nature was bound to ask questions eventually, though, and the shock of the cinematic parallel to the Turner romance had obviously caught Shelagh off guard.
"I'll just get a towel to mop this up," Shelagh muttered as she dumped the remnants of the teapot into the rubbish bin. Her face showed only shock, though if it was a result of the crashing pot or her daughter's question, Sister Julienne did not know. She watched Shelagh's determined movements to wipe the floor clean and then back to the sink to wring out the towel. There was tension in the room that she read as an attempt for her friend to explain herself. Sister Julienne waited, as she usually did, for the bearer of the weight of pain to speak. She would listen; she would always listen.
Shelagh's head was bowed in front of the sink, one hand touching her face. She could not see her face, but Sister Julienne detected the shaking of her hunched shoulders as soon as it began. She crossed the room and placed a reassuring hand on Shelagh's trembling back.
"There, there, Shelagh, it's all right. I'm sure Angela was only being curious about…"
As Shelagh turned to face her, Sister Julienne raised her eyebrows in surprise. Her friend was not crying, as she had thought, but was stifling her laughter with the hand over her mouth. Shelagh's eyes were lit with humor, and the sound of her laughter echoed in a crescendo on the walls the small room. The laughter was just as her former sister always remembered it: a great throaty, booming laugh whose pitch lilted with each breath. It was a laugh that wrapped a listener and warmed hearts, unexpected from so slight a person, but simultaneously so quintessentially Shelagh that any other laugh would have been out of place.
She clutched the side of the sink and grasped Sister Julienne's arm to steady herself as she howled. "Oh, Sister!" she laughed with tears running down her face. "What – what are the chances – what are the chances that my daughter – my daughter! – goes to see a movie where a nun – a nun! – leaves the church to get married?"
Shelagh doubled over in gasps of laughter, clutching her stomach and gulping for air. When Sister Julienne was struck with the ridiculousness of the situation, she joined her friend heartily until they were both seated on the tile floor, wheezing from breathless laughter and pains in their sides.
When they had both calmed enough, Shelagh dabbed her eyes and passed the teatowel to Sister Julienne. There was only a moment of quiet before she threw her head back in laughter again.
Shelagh's eyes were clenched shut as she leaned into Sister Julienne's shoulder. "I can't wait to see Patrick's face when Angela tells him about that film!"
The two friends' eyes met instantly and the thought of Patrick Turner's shocked expression was enough to make them both writhe with glee on the floor for several minutes longer until they could hardly breathe.