A/N: Not canon in any way, and obviously, I don't own any of these characters.
Shelagh sat on the bed wrapped in her dressing gown with her appointment diary open in her lap. Normally, she found nothing extraordinary to grin about in that book - only reminders about clinic and Tim's school activities - but the entry for today made her smile.
March 11, 1960: 1st anniversary
Sometimes, she could hardly believe it had been a year since she'd married Patrick. One year since she'd pledged to love him for rest of her life; one year since she'd sat much like this on another bed, her heart racing with nerves and anticipation; one year since he'd become hers and she his; and one year since she'd become mother to his son. Now they had Angela as well, sleeping just across the room in her cot. So much had changed in their lives, even the love she shared with her husband - it had grown. And now here she sat, one year later, waiting for Patrick to come to bed so they could share in that love again.
Their anniversary celebration had been small, but lovely. Patrick had switched around his schedule and managed not to be on call. Shelagh had been able to get Mrs. Penney to make dinner for Tim and keep Angela for a few extra hours while they had a quiet dinner out. He'd looked so handsome in his suit, and she already treasured the note he'd tucked into flowers he bought her.
Shelagh,
Let me say what I could not in other letters (but I hope you know). I love you. Thank you for loving me and our little family.
Your Patrick
She read it again now, before tucking it into the drawer of the nightstand for safekeeping, and flipped ahead a few days in the appointment book. The coming Saturday was another important day: Patrick's birthday. Last year, it had fallen on the last day of their honeymoon and they hadn't really celebrated - well, Patrick had insisted she was present enough - but this year, she wanted to find some way to mark the occasion. She knew he wouldn't want any sort of fuss or a party, but a cake, most definitely. A family afternoon at the park would be nice, if the weather held, followed by another evening like this one, just the two of them. If she could, Shelagh would have given Patrick a holiday away from Poplar and the responsibilities of the surgery, but babies didn't come on a schedule, and illness and poverty never took a holiday.
She heard the door open and close in the bath down the hall and a few moments later, Patrick padded into their room, barefoot and in his dressing gown. An old favorite saying of Sister Monica Joan's floated through her mind - When you speak of the sun, so it shines -and she smiled up at him.
"Thank you for tonight, Patrick. It was lovely."
He chuckled as he shed his dressing gown and slid into bed next to her. "Our anniversary isn't over yet, Mrs. Turner. We've still got a few more hours." He pressed his lips to a spot just under her ear that always made shiver and she shifted closer, eager for more.
"Yes, if Angela sleeps through the night," she said, careful to keep her voice low. Their daughter had finally learned how to go to sleep on her own, but whether or not she stayed asleep was a matter of chance. Tonight, Shelagh would rather lose sleep for a quite different reason. She closed her eyes at the thought and tilted her head a little further, hoping her husband would continue his pleasing attentions to her neck, but he moved away.
"What's this?" He pulled the appointment book off her lap. "I thought we agreed - no work tonight. Schedules for clinics, Timothy's school appointments, can all wait until tomorrow." He ended the last sentence with a kiss, short but tender.
"It's not work, Patrick. I was just reminiscing, I suppose. And thinking about the future." She smiled, giddy with the happy thought of their future together, and stroked the collar of his pajama top. "Your birthday is next week. Anything in particular you would like?"
His own grin turned teasing and wicked. "Well..."
Some moments later, when she'd regained her breath, she said, "But I am serious, Patrick. We always celebrate Tim's birthday and mine. We'll celebrate Angela's first later this year. What about yours?"
Patrick shrugged. "I don't know. I've always had to work that day - well, except last year." He sighed. I'll probably have to work this year too since I took off for tonight. I'm too old for birthdays anyway."
Shelagh rolled her eyes and kissed her ridiculous husband playfully on the cheek. "Now that is utter nonsense. I think Sister Monica Joan is proof that no one is too old for cake."
Patrick laughed - quietly, so as not to wake the baby. "Perhaps you're right about that." He captured her left hand and kissed her palm, a gesture from the past that was also a promise of the future. "But I don't need anything else. And everything I want is right here."
A year ago, when Shelagh was still finding her way in this new life, she would have blushed and looked away from his warm gaze. Now, she reveled in it and tugged him closer to kiss him and slide her hands to the buttons on his pajama top. She felt his fingers take a similar path on her body, unknotting her dressing gown and tracing warm patterns on her skin through the silk of her nightdress. She moaned - until she heard Angela move and snuffle in her cot. Shelagh froze, eyes wide.
Patrick stopped too, stretched and craned his neck to look over at the baby. After a moment, he turned back to his wife with a cheeky grin.
"Still asleep," he whispered. Just as silently, he slipped her dressing gown off her shoulders and drew her to him. "And I can be quiet if you can."
