Shelagh looked out the kitchen window and sighed heavily. "At this rate, the garden will never be finished," she lamented. Turning to face her family, she said, "It's such a shame you have to be on call at the maternity hospital all weekend, Patrick. The weather is just perfect today, and the plants I ordered from McClosky's won't last forever in those pots."
A shipment of various plants and flowers sat sadly by the back door, waiting to be placed in their new home. For the past three weekends, the Turner family had spent every daylight hour uprooting dying old bushes, tilling the soil, and creating a new foundation for what Shelagh hoped would be the ideal family retreat. Three days ago, after an abbreviated day of calls, Patrick and Timothy had laid down a pathway and small patio that would feature the family's new picnic table. It should be mentioned that, just as she had predicted, Shelagh's nursing skills were required that evening. Nearly an entire jar of liniment was assiduously applied to the poor man's back before he felt limber enough to roll over on their bed and prove just how much better he was feeling.
"I know, dear, but it can't be helped. We'll find a way to finish it, I promise you," her husband promised.
Shelagh turned back to the stove to refill the teapot, missing the wink exchanged by father and son. "Well, I suppose it's a good thing Angela and I will have to spend the day with Aunt Lulu. I'm not really looking forward to spending an entire day shopping, but at least it will take my mind off of this project."
"I'm sure you'll have a lovely day, Shelagh. Aunt Lulu loves to spoil you, and you could use a bit of pampering for a change."
"As long as you don't let her buy another jumper for Dad. That last one was terrible!" Tim added.
Not long after Shelagh began her journey to meet her aunt in the City, Patrick appeared at their back gate, accompanied by Timothy, Sister Evangelina, Patsy Mount and a Fred Buckle burdened by a large tool belt and a assortment of garden tools that would make the Queen's groundskeeper jealous.
"Right, then, team," Patrick called as they passed into the skeletal area, "we're nearly there. Tim, you go put the big kettle on. Ladies, here's a drawing Shelagh made of her landscaping plan. I know I can trust you both to bringing it to life. Fred, I'll go up and change and we can begin on the special project."
"Oh, I think we can manage this, Doctor. Nurse Mount and I will have every last plant in the ground faster than grass through a goose," Sister Evangelina declared.
Rolling her eyes, Patsy Mount took the plan. "Lovely. I should have known there'd be peonies. If Shelagh were a flower, she might be a peony. Or a daisy." Squaring her shoulders, she tacked the plan to the table. "Race you to the best trowel, Sister E!"
Fred motioned for Patrick to join him in the back of the garden. "I've done a bit o' research, Doctor, and I reckon the best way to attach this thing is to use the tree and the brick wall. Now, I've brought me new electric drill. Should make the process a regular walk in the park." He glanced around the space. "You sure about this, Doc? I can't really picture Mrs. Turner enjoyin' herself in such a precarious position."
"I'm completely certain, Fred. It'll be perfect."
It was amazing how quickly the garden came together with such a team. Plantings taken care of, furniture arranged and the back corner were all ready for Shelagh's return with time to spare.
"I really can't thank you all enough," Patrick told them. "This will mean so much to Shelagh."
"Happy to, Doctor. Especially after I let her down that night at the club," Patsy apologized again.
"Night club?" questioned Sister Evangelina.
"Home again, Angel girl," Shelagh cooed to her sleepy infant as she opened the front door. The planned visit to a few shops had become a full-blown shopping excursion when Aunt Lulu insisted Shelagh take a break from her mothering duties and leave the baby with the maid. Shelagh's reluctance was soon overcome (she did need a new pair of navy pumps, after all) and the next six hours were spent in a whirlwind of activity. Aunt Lulu, extravagant in her generosity, railroaded Shelagh into accepting the navy pumps, two new dresses, and a new apron almost too lovely to wear when feeding pablum to a baby.
Patrick met them in the hallway. "How're my two girls?" he smiled, taking Angela from his wife's arms.
"Exhausted. I'm not quite sure why Aunt doesn't run for Parliament. Or rule the world, for that matter!"
"Oh, it couldn't have been that bad. You don't have any parcels with you." Patrick shifted a sleeping Angela is his arms to reach down and kiss his wife.
"They'll be delivered Monday," Shelagh answered. "No jumpers for you this time, Patrick. But I can't say Timothy got off so easily. There's a new jacket coming with a contrast piping I'm sure he won't be very happy about."
Patrick laughed softly. "Well, we all have to take our medicine from Aunt Lulu sometimes, I suppose. Tim's at Jack's tonight. Go up and have a bath while I put this little sleepyhead to bed. I'll have tea ready when you come down."
Shelagh started up the stairs. "Sounds lovely. She'll go right down for you, I think. Aunt Lulu's maid fed her to bursting!"
Half an hour later Shelagh padded down the stairs in her bare feet, her blue-flowered dressing gown cinched tight about her waist. As she neared the sitting room door, a dim light from the back of the house caught her eye. The open back door beckoned her. "Patrick?" she called.
In the doorway, the sight before Shelagh stopped her still. Their backyard, only hours ago so bare and unfinished, was now a garden paradise. Outdoor furniture decked the newly completed patio, candles lit upon the table. Beds of hydrangeas, roses, peonies and lavender edged the space, leading to a small sanctuary near the brick wall in back. Hanging between the elm tree and the wall was a large hammock, simply calling out for relaxation and contentment. Strings of Christmas fairy lights flickered, creating a wonderland and music played softly from the radio. Standing in the midst of this scene was her smiling husband.
"Oh, Patrick," she whispered. "It's perfect!"
Reaching out, he took her hands in his. "Can you picture Angela's first steps here, darling? Or Tim reading in the hammock?" He pulled her close and began to sway with the music.
Shelagh placed her head against his chest, utterly content. After long moments of peace, she looked up and asked, "However did you get all this done today? I wasn't gone long enough!"
"I had helpers. Sister Evangelina and Patsy did most of the planting, Fred came by with his tools to install the hammock, and Sister Julienne came by late this afternoon to put up all the fairy lights with Tim. Everyone worked so terribly hard."
She squeezed his hand as he led her along the brick path leading to the hammock. "Where on earth did you get this hammock, Patrick? It looks like it came straight off a man o' war!"
"Mr. Hale's shop," Patrick told her proudly. "He spent weeks trying to find one like this. See? It's big enough for both of us." His eyes gleamed with the invitation.
"Oh, no, Patrick. We could never get in that together. It would come down on our heads!"
"Not the way Fred installed it. This thing could hold both you and me, Angela, Tim, and maybe even Fred himself all at the same time. This thing is anchored like nobody's business!" Patrick proclaimed. He proceeded to climb into the swinging canvas. "Join me," he coaxed.
Shelagh shook her head, unconvinced. "I'm sure I wouldn't be able to climb into that thing, dear. It will do for you and Timothy just fine."
"Oh, no," Patrick responded. "Here you go!" Quickly, he grasped her around her waist and swung her deftly in beside him.
"Patrick!" Shelagh cried, as the hammock swayed back and forth. Shelagh, calming down as the pedulation slowed, began to relax into her husband's arms. "Next time let's try that a bit more gracefully, dearest." Looking up, she met his eyes. "This is the loveliest surprise I think I've ever had. All that work. You must be very sore." Her voice had dropped in pitch, hinting at ways she might thank him.
"A bit sore, maybe. You can make it up to me." Patrick leaned down to capture her lips.
"Patrick, not here. We're outside."
"We are outside in our own private paradise, sweetheart. The only windows looking down on us are our own. The neighbors can't see us, either." he kissed her again, and Shelagh let her resistance disappear. 'You are a very bad influence, Doctor Turner," she whispered as he nibbled the length of her throat.
"I do try, Mrs. Turner."