Shelagh was a smart lady. It didn't take her long into her marriage to realize that there were certain times when she should never bring up a difficult subject with her husband. After a long day, perhaps, or when patients (or Timothy) were being particularly difficult. Tonight was a good time, she reasoned. A relaxing day with the family, his favorite dinner, and bouncy time with Angela had put him in a very convivial frame of mind.

"Patrick, there's something I'd like to do, but I'll need your help." She settled down next to him on the sofa. Angela cooed and reached for her mother.

"Hmm?" Patrick asked, trying to distract his daughter, unwilling to share.

Shelagh moved away from the couch, out of the baby's eye line. Patrick smiled his thanks. "Of course, Shelagh. Anything I can do." He looked panicked for a moment. "It's not a part in the choir, is it?"

"No, Patrick, it's not a part in the choir. I know you're too busy to commit to the Chorale Society. This is just a few hours of your time, and just with me."

"I like the sound of that," his grin widened.

"I am in the room, Dad," Timothy complained from the floor.

Shelagh ignored their banter and decided to jump right in. "Patrick, I've been thinking that I should learn how to drive."

"Drive? My car? Why on earth would you want to do that? I can take you anywhere you need to go." His voice was a little high.

"Yes, you're very helpful. But I'd like to be a bit more independent, sometimes. And I think it would be a good skill to have. Just say you broke your leg, and couldn't drive to your patients? I could help. Or if you're tired after a long day and Timothy needs to get to a meeting at school in the evening? I could take that off your hands, dear." She smiled at him helpfully.

Timothy joined in. "None of the mums I know can drive, Mum. Do you think you even can?"

Instantly both males knew a strategic error had occurred. "Why?" Shelagh demanded. "Because a woman can't operate a machine? Just who do you think repaired the boiler last week? And which one of you fixed the leak in the bathroom sink? Me! Of course women can drive, little chauvinist. The Queen can drive. And repair an engine."

Patrick knew he was defeated. "All right, Shelagh. I'll teach you to drive."

Shelagh beamed. "You won't be sorry, Patrick. You'll see!"

"I'm rather busy for the next few weeks, though. It will probably have to wait a bit. Later in the spring, perhaps," he stalled.

"That will be fine, then." Angela began to fuss for her mother, and Patrick gave her up. "This little miss needs her bath, Patrick. I'll get things ready for you." Shelagh stepped out of the room.

"I don't know, Dad. Mum driving?" Timothy was not convinced.

Patrick grunted. "Thanks for your support, son." He lit a cigarette and took a long drag. " I will say this, and listen carefully if you ever plan to get married one day. When a man's wife is happy, everyone is happy. Wiser words have never been spoken."

"Whatever you say, Dad. All I know is that she has you completely wrapped around her little finger."

"Me?" Patrick cried. "I'm not the one playing piano for the choir!"