Authors Note: I've had a huge case of writers block, oh sigh! Nothing like Call the Midwife to boost my writing spirit. :) Enjoy! Don't forget to review!
The phone never rang that night.
After a couple of months spent being Mrs. Turner, I had grown used to the ringing of the telephone at odd hours in the night. It woke Patrick and I every single night, without fail. Most of the time it was just from a concerned new mother, or from a mid-wife needing the answer to a brief question, but sometimes, he had to go out. New babies didn't wait for sunrise, nor did the sick, feeble or injured. A doctor's day was never truly over, and work was never completely finished. But that night, the house was oddly quiet. The only sound came from the rain pounding onto the roof, splattering on the garden that Timothy and I had slaved over on one warm evening. He didn't enjoy the girly work as he said, nor did he enjoy the watering or planting, but he did seem content. I still wasn't certain on whether or not he was happy to be away from school work or if he was relishing in the time with his newly named mother, but either way...it was nice.
The quiet was normally something to enjoy. An excuse to snuggle up for just a little longer, to hesitate on sleep because we had a rare moment together alone, but it seemed like a prison cell, then. We didn't speak, we didn't look at each other, we stayed as far from each other as the bed would allow. It brought me back to the days in Nonnatus, when my body was adorned in much different clothing and Patrick and I were barely allowed eye contact, let alone to be close. It seemed as uncomfortable now as it was then, trying to hide feelings and keep them under wraps even though the passion inside begged to be released and let free into the world. I wanted nothing more than to turn my face to him and plead with him for an answer - Why didn't you tell me? Why did you keep your past a secret? Don't you trust me? Don't you love me? - but I knew that it would only make things harder. I was a beginner at love and relationships, he however, was a seasoned veteran (in more ways than one) and I knew that we both realized who would have to make the first move to healing and forgiveness.
The rain continued falling silently, dripping down the outside walls just as the tears floated down both of our cheeks, wishing for a magical clock that would take us back to when things were okay.
"Shelagh, I know you're awake." He whispered, finally. He let a sigh out before continuing. "I don't know why I didn't tell you before."
He turned around then, facing my back and placing a large hand on my hip, just barely brushing it as if I was still Sister Bernadette lying next to him. "I'm so sorry, I hope you can forgive me." He murmured, another hand coming to rest on my shoulder as he sat up, begging me to turn. I faced him, then, the sadness in his eyes melting my heart.
"I can't forgive you, because there's nothing to forgive."