To be honest, I don't know about this one, In fact, it might be crap, but let me know what you think.
Shelagh had just woken up from the most wonderful of dreams, she had been released from the sanitorium and was supposed to go to Chichester, but had somehow found herself on the wrong bus to Poplar, then lost on a country road. Lost, that is, until she had turned around to see Dr. Turner's car emerge from the mist. He met her on the road:
Eye contact, hand, coat, a lot of certainty, Shelagh, Patrick.
Yes, his name was Patrick and it sounded more beautiful every time she turned it over in her mind. The next thing she remembered was entering the kitchen at the parish hall. Dr. Turner was there too, holding a small present:
Hello, ribbon, paper, ring, kiss, please will you marry my dad?
He'd asked her to marry him, and it was the happiest a dream had ever made her feel.
Shelagh opened her eyes, the morning light was streaming through the small part in the drapes of her convent room, casting a glowing beam over the bed. She caught sight of something glinting in the light on the pillow next to her, on her hand. It was the same delicate diamond ring from her dream. Shelagh smiled to herself, squeezing her eyes shut as the memories, real memories, flooded her mind. If she'd had a doubt in her mind, she knew, his showing up on that road was God telling her that they were meant to be together, to find each other; she had been going the right direction all along. When he'd touched his hand to her forehead, more out of concern that as an intimate gesture, she assumed, she had felt more relieved than ever before in her life, as if his hand possessed the power to melt her body and soul. She'd wondered but not dared to hope what he was about to do in that kitchen, but then it did, her mind had gone to signing the papers in Sister Julienne's office, the pang of taking that ring off, the finality of it all, and now, just days later, she had another ring, his ring.
Looking at the clock on her bedside table, Shelagh saw that it was after nine in the morning. She threw her covers back, she hadn't left the sanatorium just to be kept in bed all day. She dressed in a simple white blouse and a loose skirt she'd borrowed from Jane. She'd decided not to buy herself too many clothes until she had decide what she really liked.
She walked into the kitchen to find Sister Julienne and Cynthia sitting at the table, both beamed at her. When she had informed them that she and the doctor were engaged, all responded surprisingly well. Tears from Sister Julienne, shrieks of excitement from Trixie, hugs and words of encouragement from Jenny, Cynthia, Jane and Sister Monica Joan, who'd thrown in a line from Browning for good measure; Sister Evangelina didn't seem to overcome her stunned silence, patting her on the shoulder as she walked from the room, seeming very dazed.
Good morning sister, good morning Cynthia." She smiled back at both of them, calling the nurses by their first names felt so odd; but after all, she was one of them now.
"Good morning Shelagh." They replied in unison, Cynthia suppressed a delighted giggle. Shelagh realized using her first name had to be just as strange.
Cynthia rose from the table, "I was just about to make myself another cup of tea before my rounds, would you like one? Mrs. Douglass had her baby early this morning, so I'm a bit slow going today. Oh, and there's been a telephone call for you already, from you-know-who." She said with a slight grin.
Shelagh's heart leapt, she forced herself to at least seem call. "Really?" she said quietly, "did he say why he was calling?"
Cynthia set Shelagh's tea down in front of her. Sister Julienne excused herself to her office, Shelagh wondered if she was trying to do what any mother would do, giving the young women time to talk.
"Well," Cynthia began, "first, he wanted to make sure that you were still in bed." Shelagh sighed, of course he would, Cynthia continued, "then, he said he hated having to call then, but he had so many rounds today, that it was his only chance and to tell you that he would be arriving at 6 o'clock, and to make sure you are ready.
Shelagh could hardly contain her thoughts, and could hardly wait for 6 o'clock to arrive.
She waited by the door, she'd put on a cardigan, as it wasn't very cold out. She couldn't bring herself to sit down, no matter how many times someone told her she would wear herself down, she knew she would not settle until she had his arms around her.
When she opened the door and saw him standing there, a single rose in his hand, all the jumpiness that had been building up inside her dissipated. She closed the door behind her and let her head fall into his chest. Patrick put one arm around her, the other one stroking her head. "What is it love?" he asked softly, "are you tired?" She smiled, "no, I'm not tired, only happy to see you." He chuckled softly, "and I you," he replied, leading her down the steps. "I thought we could go for a walk, the air will be good for you, and It will give us a chance to talk."
They walked separately for a long time before he put an arm around her waist, and they talked Shelagh told him about everyone's reactions to the news, and they laughed when he told her that he had run into Trixie that morning, and she had nearly run him down with her bicycle.
They had neared the docks when Shelagh felt the first raindrop hit her cheek, she looked up, and another landed with a splash on her glasses, moments later they began to fall faster, then faster. What had been a calm autumn evening had turned into an all around downpour.
If there was one thing Dr. Turner knew, it was that it was a bad idea to leave a TB patient in the rain, especially if that TB patient is your fiancé. He took her wrist and they made a mad dash for shelter, finally finding it under the awning of a nearby shop.
They both laughed as they tried to catch their breath, already quite wet. "I'm sorry." Patrick wheezed, "I shouldn't have made you run." Shelagh laughed, wrapping her arms around herself in the wet cardigan. Patrick took off his coat and wrapped it around her shoulders, holding it under her chin. "How is it that you always get stuck outside without a proper coat?" he asked with a smile, they both laughed, catching each other's gaze.
Their laughter faded as they held each other's gaze. Something built up inside of Shelagh, and she bit her lip, as if it might come bursting out of her.
Patrick leaned in slightly. He wanted to kiss her, he needed to kiss her, but he knew she was still so unfamiliar to it all, he didn't want to push. Ever so gently, he pressed his lips to hers, leaving as quickly as he had come.
Whatever was inside her, whatever this tension was, left as their lips met. He had a power over her, a power to ease her inner most anxiety and emotion. She wanted him so much.
Shelagh pressed her lips back to his, loving the feeling, the release of such a simple gesture. It was her first kiss, and she relished the feeling. Patrick's lips seemed to form a question against hers, unsure how she wanted him to respond. Trying to lead him, she brought her arms around his neck, automatically deepening the kiss, she was finished holding back.
Patrick couldn't stop his response; he wrapped her up in his arms, letting his lips dance on hers. He felt her part them slightly, and he kissed the corners of her mouth, kissing each lip individually, he wanted to take her in as he never had before, to make her feel loved, wanted and needed all in this moment
Briefly their tongues met before they broke apart, letting their lips linger on each others. Patrick took Shelagh's head in his hands, kissing her deeply one last time. He wrapped his arms around her as tightly as he could, never wanting to let go, she buried her head in his neck, just breathing him in.
"I love you Patrick."
"I love you so much Shelagh."