"No one else is capable- I..." Julienne leaned back amongst her pillows and sighed as Doctor Turner packed his stethoscope away.
"You can leave Sister Evangelina in charge of the office for a few days...she's done it before, surely."
Sister Julienne's eyes widened in horror. "Goodness, no! Sister Evangelina doesn't have the temperament for paperwork and administrative duties."
"Then who did you leave in charge?" Patrick asked her, understanding dawning as their eyes met. "Oh."
"Quite."
Patrick turned to Sister Winifred, preferring to keep the following conversation private. It wasn't that he didn't trust the newest Sister, but he knew his wife would be furious with other people knowing their private business.
"Sister Winifred? Might you make up a tray for Sister Julienne? Tea and toast, perhaps?"
"Absolutely!" came the overly eager response. "You'll be alright if I go, Sister?"
Sister Julienne nodded, waiting until the young nun left to focus all her attention on Doctor Turner.
"Sister? Might I speak freely? On a personal level?"
She sat up straighter, concern evident in her tone. "Is everything alright, Doctor Turner?"
Patrick raised an eyebrow at her. "Sister, I'm not going to pretend that you don't know about...recent events."
Sister Julienne's gaze softened as she nodded. "I have spoken with Mrs. Turner recently, yes."
"I know. Shelagh told me that the choir was your idea, and I'm very grateful to you, Sister." He motioned to the edge of the bed, asking permission before he sat. Were it anyone else, they would have scolded him, but Sister Julienne was gracious in her nod of acceptance.
"I'm worried about her, Sister Julienne. This...setback, well, it's been devastating. To both of us, really, but for Shelagh...I'm just afraid that we won't be enough for her."
"Doctor-" Julienne tried to cut him off but he continued.
"The choir is helping, but I'm afraid she's trying to do too much to keep herself occupied and nothing is working. She's trying too hard to be the perfect wife and mother, when she doesn't have to be. There was a moment earlier, between her and Timothy...I'm sorry, Sister. I don't mean to burden you, especially after I've just prescribed a fortnight of rest."
"It's no burden, Doctor Turner. I worry about her myself, and your family is at the forefront of my daily prayers. Always."
Patrick smiled sadly. "Thank you, Sister. That means a great deal to us."
Sister Julienne took a deep breath and fixed the doctor with a hard stare. "There is no persuading you to let me stay on duty?"
"No. I won't yield on that, Sister. I'm sorry, but you need to rest. It will do none of us any good to have you run yourself into the ground."
Nodding her head and pursing her lips in displeasure, she continued. "Then I shall call the Mother House to appraise them of my arrival. Would you ask Shelagh to come by tomorrow morning? I'll have to go over the logbook with her..."
Patrick smiled, knowing this was the perfect solution for everyone. It gave his wife something to do, while giving Sister Julienne the rest she needed without having to worry. "She'll be here at nine, I'll drop her off myself."
"She's the only one I trust, Doctor Turner."
He could see she wanted to say more, but the opening of the door stopped her.
"Knock knock! Here we are, a tray full of goodies to get you back on your feet!" came the annoyingly chipper voice, alerting them that Sister Winifred had returned.
Patrick Turner watched as Sister Julienne plastered on a smile, and after shooting her a sympathetic glance, he went back out to his car. What he hadn't expected was to find the car empty. Even more unexpected was finding his son playing cricket in the street with his mates- and not just playing, but playing rather well. After having Fred promise to keep an eye on him, giving Tim some change and telling him to call if he felt he'd done too much, Patrick left for home.
The entire drive back to the flat, he couldn't get the image of his son playing cricket out of his mind. He hadn't seen Timothy look that happy in months, the side effects of polio having stolen the little joys his son had. If it hadn't been for Shelagh, Patrick wasn't sure Tim would have made it this far in his recovery.
Shelagh.
Just the thought of having to tell his wife that he'd let Timothy stay out playing cricket made Patrick Turner dread opening the front door of his house. What was that famous quote? He thought to himself. 'Though she be but little, she is fierce.' Yes. That was his wife.
Steeling himself, he took a deep breath and walked into the flat, shutting the door softly behind him.
"How is she?" came the familiar Scottish lilt from the sitting room. He'd barely gotten to the door before she'd jumped up from the sofa.
"Nothing a proper rest won't cure. I've-"
"Where's Timothy? Did he fall asleep in the car again?"
Best to get it over with, he decided. Like ripping off a plaster, he spoke quickly. "No, he's out with his friends."
And there it was, the forehead crease. A quirk of Shelagh's that had the ability to fill him with love and fear. At this moment, he knew fear was the correct response. Taking a deep breath, he hurriedly explained about the cricket and leaving Fred in charge as a pseudo-babysitter.
"I can't believe you've left him there! What if he falls over? Or wears himself out and is too tired to walk home?!"
"Shelagh, leave him to his own devices!"
"We both left him to his own devices, if you remember, the day that he was taken ill!"
That stopped Patrick in his tracks. "I don't deserve that, and neither do you!" He realized he was pointing his finger at her, and that she looked heartbroken.
"I'm sorry."
"We're both sorry. And he's an eleven-year old boy. Polio or no polio, he needs to spread his wings."
And there was the crux of it. What they both needed to hear, but neither had the courage to say to the other.
"I don't know what I'm going to do with myself." Shelagh whispered harshly.
Patrick crossed the short distance to his wife, pulling her closer to him.
"I do." He grinned down at her before launching into his plan.