**A/N: Thanks for all the reviews! Please keep them coming. Onto the next chapter.**
Chapter 2
Shelagh, dear, would you mind helping clean the clinical room. There are a few supplies in there that hadn't been cleaned yet and it needs to be done before the night shift.
Shelagh had jumped at the chance, since coming back from the sanatorium the nun's and nurses hadn't let her do anything. She knew it was because they loved her and didn't want her to overdo it, but it was starting to annoy her. She was never one to sit idly and do nothing, and this was torture. Whenever she wasn't doing anything, which was almost all the time now, she was thinking about him. When she received his letters, she was over the moon, it was the final piece put in place. The thing that pushed her to make her decision. Yet she hadn't replied yet, hadn't even told him she was back in Poplar.
She said it was because she didn't want to pull him into her scandal. She wasn't naïve, she knew that people were talking about her and she couldn't bare for Doctor Turner to be part of that. He had gone through enough. But, even though that was all true, if she was being honest with herself, it wasn't the reason at all. In all honesty, it was because she was scared. Being a nun for 10 years had taken most of her knowledge of relationships between men and women. She knew the basics, anyone who worked half their life as a midwife would, but an actual relationship, she had no idea how to manage.
What if he didn't mean it like she thought he did? What if he got bored of her? These questions, and many like them roamed her mind. The only way she could push them away was to keep busy. She couldn't think of him just yet, she wasn't ready.
Shelagh was almost finished when she heard footsteps behind her, a faint sent filled the air and her hands stilled. She would know that smell anywhere. Cigarettes mixed with a bit of sweat and aftershave. He didn't say anything and neither did she, suddenly she was very conscious of her bare legs. Yes, she was wearing stockings, but they weren't the black ones she was used too, they were a pair of nylon ones she borrowed from Trixie.
How long they stood in silence, she wasn't sure, but she knew she would have to face him. Turning slowly, she kept her eyes down, not yet ready to see his face and possibly the rejection she had imagined. When she was finally facing him, she lifted her eyes.
The pair stood there, their eyes greedily taking every aspect of the person before them. It had been so long since they had last seen each other that neither knew what to say.
"Sister Bernadette," Patrick was the first to break the silence, "You're back?"
"Yes," was her simple reply. Patrick's eyes studied her, trying to work out what was going on behind that face.
"How are you feeling?" It was a lame question, he knew, but it was the only thing he could think of and she looked like she was about to run from the room and he wouldn't allow that.
"Much better, a little bored. They won't let me do much." She gave him a shy smile that melted his heart.
Patrick chuckled a little and said; "I can imagen, but they're only doing it because they care. We don't want you getting sick again. I wrote to you," Patrick added, breaking the silence that settled in them.
"Yes," she replied softly.
"I don't know if I said too much, or not enough," Patrick voice was laced with worry, he wouldn't have been able to disguise it if he wanted to. Sister Bernadette didn't reply straight away, and he was beginning to regret his decision to come here. She was obviously trying to find a way to let him down.
"You said," she started after a moment, "what was necessary." Necessary? What was necessary? Does this mean… Patrick wouldn't let his thoughts even go there, yet the look on her face was enough to confirm it, even if her words couldn't. He couldn't take the distance anymore and stepped towards her, but before he could say anything she moved back and almost shouted; "How's Timothy?"
Patrick blinked, unsure what had just happened. It was then he saw it, clear as day, written all over her face. She was scared. She tried to hide it, but Patrick Turner had memorised her every expression, he would play them repeatedly in his head. This particular expression wasn't common on the young nun, well not nun any more, but see it he could. Patrick decided then and then not to push her, they had time. Even if it took the rest of his life, he would show her that he was worthy, that there was nothing to fear from him.
"He's well, he here actually. Couldn't resist the idea of Mrs B's cake."
"I should go and see him, it's been such a long time," she said, making a hasty exit. Patrick grabbed her, gently by the elbow.
"Sister Bernadette," he started, there was no way her could let her go just then. He didn't know when they would next be able to speak.
"Forgive me," she interrupted, "but I don't answer to that name any more." That said, she slipped her arm form his grasp and left.
Patrick followed the sound of his son's voice, he was talking animatedly to not-Sister-Bernadette. The young blonde was sat next to him, she looked pale and tired to the doctor. He hoped it was because she had a long day, and not because on the exchange they had in the clinical room.
"Did you find out what happened to my butterfly?" Timothy asked.
"Well, I gave it to the doctors, but they weren't able to tell my anything your father hadn't already told you." Not-Sister-Bernadette replied, softly.
"That's a shame, maybe we could find out?" Timothy asked, his voice so full of hope and it warmed Patrick's heart to know that his son loved this woman as much as he did.
He loved her!
It was the first time he had ever admitted it to himself, he didn't even know her name and yet he loved her with every fibre of his being. Patrick felt like something had been lifted of his shoulders with his declaration, yes it wasn't out load and the person her most wanted to hear it hadn't. But fact that he was able to admit it to himself and set him free. Patrick's eyes trained on the two people before, the two people who were the most precious to him and his heart over flowed.
Not-Sister-Bernadette sifted in her seat, he could see her start to flag and was about to say something when a voice from behind him spoke.
"Shelagh, you should probably head up to bed. It's been a long day and I can see you're exhausted," Sister Evangeline spoke, Patrick looked round to see who she was speaking to when Not-Sister-Bernadette spoke.
"I'm fine, Sister."
"No, you're not," the stern nun spoke back, walking past Patrick pointing her finger at the young woman before her. "I told Sister Julienne that cleaning the supplies would be too much and look at you, your paler than you were this afternoon and look considerably tiered."
She was taking to Not-Sister-Bernadette, Shelagh. Her name was Shelagh. It was beautiful, it fit her so well Patrick wondered why he didn't guess it. Shelagh. He wanted so much to try it on his tongue but didn't dare with her so close.
"I'm sure Timothy would be more than happy to continue your conversation tomorrow?" Sister Evangelina said, directing her comment to Timothy.
"Of course," the boy replied, "if you're tired Sister Berna- I mean nurse, um"
"Shelagh," Shelagh supplied when it was clear Timothy didn't know what to call his old friend.
"Shelagh? That's a pretty name."
"Thank you." Shelagh smiled warmly at him.
"Come on, Tim," Patrick stepped in, "let's give nurse," he paused then, hoping someone would supply her surname.
"Mannion." Sister Evangelina obliged.
"Nurse Mannion some time to rest." He so desperately wanted to call her Shelagh, to see how it sounded from his mouth, to show her just how intimate he wanted them to be. But he didn't dare in front of Sister Evangelina, the nun was already giving him a more than stern look.
"Ok, bye Shelagh."
"Goodbye Timothy." Shelagh pulled him into her arms and kissed him gently on the top of his head. Timothy's arms clung around her waist, as if he never wanted to let go. Patrick and Shelagh's eyes met over his head. She gave him a soft smile, which he returned. Sharing everything they wish they couldn't aloud in that small gesture. It had been their way of communicating while she was a nun, and now it seems after. Not that Patrick minded, he would spend all day looking into those eyes if he could.
The moment was ended when Sister Evangelina ushered both Turner boys out. When they opened the door, Timothy ran for the car. Before Patrick could follow him, however, he found himself blocked by Sister Evangelina.
"A word before you go, Doctor," he voice was brisk, as usual, and Patrick prepared himself for whatever lecture she was going to give him. "I don't know what you're planning for Shelagh, but I'm not blind. I saw the way you two looked at each other, even before she renounced her vows. I know love when I see it." Whatever Patrick thought she would say, it was not this. "I'm not going to get in your way, Doctor Turner, I know you're a good man. But I will say this, that girl is as precious to us as if she were our own child. We have watched her grown into the confident and capable young woman she is and if you were to do anything to hurt her, or hurt her reputation, any more than it already has been, you will have to answer to me." Patrick was stunned, he wasn't sure what he expected from Sister Evangelina, but this, acceptance was not it.
"I won't do anything to hurt her, Sister. You have my word."
"Much good your word is when I've already seen how much pain she is in after just one conversation with you." Patrick opened his mouth to defend himself, but no words would come out. "I didn't mean that the way it came out, all I'm saying is be careful, be patient. So much has happened in the last few weeks, I'm not sure if she can take any more right now. Give it time, Doctor, I assure you, she'll be worth the wait." And with that last word, the Sister turned her back on him and walked away, leaving Patrick alone to ponder her words.
"Dad," Timothy's voice pulled him from his thoughts. "Are you coming?"
"Coming son." The turners left, oblivious to the figure watching them from the window.
