A Journey Begins
They just stood there, wrapped up in each other's eyes as the mist formed a gentle cocoon around them. Shelagh had never felt so safe. She had been worrying all morning about meeting Dr Turner for the first time after that crucial phone call; she never knew what to say in his presence, somehow as soon as she caught his gaze, all words simply flew from her mind and all she could think about what the bubble that rose in her stomach and sent flutters through her body. When she had been a nun this incoherency had been all the greater due to the guilt that immediately followed one of their electric moments, but now, with the confines of her habit gone, she had found she knew exactly what to say to the man she loved, surprising herself more than anything.
Patrick could not get over the new woman that stood beaming up at him. After so many months of silence, of willing her to understand the depth of his love through only the briefest brushes of hands and honest glances, he had been worrying about how to make the first move too. Shelagh had discovered her voice, whereas he had never been more speechless in his life. But they had become so used to sharing their feelings without words that it hardly seemed to matter. When he had first stopped the car, stunned by the sight of Sister Bernadette in civilian clothes, he had had to steady himself against the door, standing there for what seemed like an age, melting at how vulnerable she looked as she stared shyly at him and trying to make his limbs work. He had tentatively put his hand to her forehead and forced himself to tear it away. He had wanted to stroke her hair, to keep that tender contact that made his heart jump around in his chest.
Now he had his coat clasped under her chin and was enjoying being able to study her beautiful face without shame. They could have stayed there drinking in each other's presence for hours, but after a few minutes they were interrupted by a shout of "Dad! Sister Bernadette! I'm cold, what are you doing? I thought we were supposed to be rescuing her, not standing about in the road!" Shelagh and Patrick tore their eyes away from the other, both breathing very deeply and blushing slightly. "It's alright Timothy," called Patrick, "could you get into the back now?" The little boy did what he was told, grinning profusely at his father as he squashed Shelagh's suitcases onto the backseat next to him. Patrick gave his son a meaningful look before he had a chance to say anything more embarrassing then opened the passenger door for Shelagh, holding her hand as she got in, reluctantly relinquishing it afterwards.
When they had turned round and begun the journey back to Poplar, Timothy began the interrogation. "Sister Bernadette, why are you in the wrong clothes?" "Because I am not going to be a nun anymore, Timothy," she replied, staring at her hands which were clasped in her lap. Patrick glanced quickly over to her and she caught his gaze, which was a bad idea as it was always impossible not to get lost in her clear blue eyes and he was driving. "I'm not Sister Bernadette anymore, my name is Shelagh." Timothy gawped. The concept of her not wearing her habit was hard enough to work out, without being told her name was changed. They carried on in silence for a while, the two adults resolutely not looking at each other, their minds racing and dancing with possibilities. Patrick wished his son had stayed behind so he and Shelagh could talk privately. "Dad was so worried, he was early out of work so he could get to you in time. He's never been early for anything before." Shelagh laughed softly and Patrick's heart once more threatened to overflow with affection. "I'm very grateful to both of you for your consideration," she smiled. The mist had lifted and sunlight began to stream into the car, gleaming off the molten gold of Shelagh's hair and glinting on the rims of her glasses. She was so very beautiful, thought Patrick, not for the first time that journey, and he found his hand moving to take hers, slowly so Timothy didn't notice. When she intertwined her fingers with his firstly came a flip in his stomach and then a grin overcame him. Suddenly Shelagh was grinning too. Any contact between them they valued and they stayed this way silently holding hands and smiling all the way into London. One day, and it was looking to be soon, he would be able to kiss her, but for now they were taking one step at a time. As Shelagh had said, they had made a start and there was no doubt at all in either of their minds that the rest would follow.