"How long?"
Shelagh considered his question, along with his earnest expression. It wasn't an unreasonable thing about which to enquire, and she would certainly like to ask him the same. The real question was, how could she pinpoint an exact time? She realised that she had taken too long to respond when Patrick's eyes dropped from holding hers and he shuffled himself a little further away from her. His words, when he spoke, pulled at her heart.
"Forgive me, I shouldn't have asked. I've made you uncomfortable."
"Patrick, I've been uncomfortable in my own skin for the past two years, at least." Shelagh reached to touch his arm, but lost her nerve as she spoke, "I'm definitely uncomfortable now and certainly will be for a while," she paused, grasping for the words to explain, "Only now, the discomfort is edged with excitement and hope. So much is changing, and change is so rarely easy at the beginning."
She smiled as Patrick took hold of her hand in his, smoothing his fingers over her knuckles. "I wish that I could make it all easier for you. I know that I can't wave a magic wand, and I can't even fully comprehend how big a transition this is for you but please let me try."
He kept hold of her hand, gently stroking it and she felt a tingling sensation in her arm as the hairs stood on end. Such a simple touch yet her body's response was like that of a dry desert experiencing the first rainfall in years. She closed her eyes and hummed appreciatively.
Before he had time to comment, and still with her eyes closed, she mumbled, "Eve Patterson."
"Sorry, I don't follow."
Opening her eyes, she smiled shyly but held his gaze, "I was the midwife on call when she rang to inform us that her waters had broken. By the time I arrived, soaking wet due to the near torrential rain, she had started to panic and had locked herself inside. I spent a great deal of time coaxing her around through the letter box, by the time she saw reason – that the baby would arrive regardless of letting a midwife in – I was drenched."
Patrick chuckled, "Ah yes, I came and assisted, forceps wasn't it?"
"Correct. It wasn't until I was checking the placenta that I realised how cold I was and that you were waltzing around the room with a slight smattering of rain on your shoulders." She looked up at him through her eyelashes. "I was praying for strength not to take my frustration out on you."
Almost imperceptibly, Patrick moved closer, "Was I really waltzing?"
"After a fashion." Shelagh laughed, "Anyway, by the time I was ready to leave, I thought you were long gone. But there you were, standing by your car, soaked to the bone, looking incredibly pleased with yourself."
It suddenly dawned on him and the realisation was visible on his face. "Ah yes, that's right, I had managed to wrestle your bike into my car."
"Patrick, you had even taken the front wheel off the bike to fit it in." Shelagh exclaimed. "I was exhausted, cold and hungry but the only thought running through my mind was, 'Oh I could just kiss that man'."
Patrick furrowed his brow, "Shelagh, that must have been about three years ago!"
She smiled sweetly, "I know, and I am being somewhat facetious, but you did ask how long." She sobered slightly, "That was just a moment born of gratitude and didn't leave me feeling as though I had compromised my vows in any way."
Shelagh knew he was going to ask when that changed, and she decided to volunteer the information first. "I can't say exactly when it changed, when I changed. It seems like I have been lost for so long; questioning myself and my choices." She felt him squeeze her hand and the gesture gave her the courage to carry on. "I had often watched the nurses; been just on the periphery of their antics and so wished to join them. I think being closest to them in age, they would include me to a point but then I was shut out as my vocation dictated. It was like a cruel taste of something I couldn't have."
"That must have been difficult." His tone was sincere.
"It was in a way, but I had a purpose greater than myself. My desire to join them was always fleeting and I would be able to find solace in prayer." Shelagh paused and looked at their hands clasped together, it felt so natural despite the total lack of physical intimacy she was used to. "But with you, it happened so gradually and was such a foreign concept to me that by the time I realised what my heart was telling me, you had permeated every inch of my soul. I couldn't escape in prayer, because you were in them, you were in my dreams, at clinic- "
Patrick cut her off with his lips and Shelagh was stunned for a few seconds before she responded, the kiss was just as chaste as their first but this time it felt more decadent, he moved his lips over hers slowly and without conscious thought she had run her free hand up the nape of his neck, into his hair. Which she was delighted to find was as soft as she'd imagined.
Patrick pulled back slowly and rested his forehead against hers, "How long, Shelagh?"
She swallowed her nerves, and whispered, "I think I realised when you were running yourself ragged trying to provide gas and air to all the laboring women of Poplar. I fixed a button on your white coat and as I was doing so it occurred to me that you were in my thoughts more often than was appropriate and I couldn't say how or when it had started, only that I couldn't remember a time when it wasn't there."
Sitting up straight again, Patrick raised their joined hands to his mouth and kissed hers. "Thank you for telling me."
They spent a moment gazing at each other. Shelagh felt lighter than she had in months, the weight of her burden lifted. Telling Sister Julienne had been difficult; telling Patrick had turned out to be surprisingly cathartic.
"I'm sure my letters gave you the gist of the progression of my feelings towards you." Patrick's tone was full of self-deprecation and Shelagh wanted to assure him that reading his heartfelt words had filled her with such joy when he added, "Only it doesn't seem as sweet as your account."
"Sweet?" She burst out, pulling her hand from his hold. "My infatuation with you was agony, Patrick!" Standing up, she walked over to the fireplace. With her back to him she added, "I was in love and it was against every rule. I couldn't tell anyone and unburden myself." She spun to face him and found that he had stood but remained at a distance. "And then you kissed my hand and every defense that I had erected for myself crumbled."
A lone tear slid down her cheek and she cursed its presence. Patrick took a tentative step towards her as though she was a deer that might get spooked and run. His voice, when he spoke was low, remorseful, "Forgive me? I was selfish that day. I was weak where you had been so strong."
He held open his arms and she moved swiftly into them, laying her head against his chest, and sighed, "There's nothing to forgive, Patrick. Had you not been so bold, I may never have been convinced that my feelings were reciprocated."
"Then forgive my poor word choice. When I said 'sweet' I was meaning as opposed to myself who on occasion felt quite lecherous."
She looked up at him in confusion, body still held against his. "Lecherous?"
Shelagh found it almost comical as she watched the discomfort on Patrick's face as he struggled to find the words adequate to explain, "I'd always thought of you as an extraordinarily skilled midwife, a caring nurse and an esteemed colleague. And I will admit to a certain level of curiosity at times about your call to the religious life at such a young age, but it never went further than that. It wasn't until Timothy was regaling me with tales of Nonnatus – in which you were always the star of the show – on a regular basis that I realised I was getting to know you through him."
He paused, and Shelagh couldn't find anything particularly lascivious in his words, though she did resolve to think back on every conversation she'd had with Timothy later in the evening.
Intrigued, she prompted, "Go on."
"Armed with all these tidbits of information, the next time I saw you, it felt like I was seeing you for the first time and it stunned me how beautiful you were. There was beauty in everything you did; I was addicted. After a while I realised that I was looking at you as a woman and not a religious sister and for that I am sorry. That wasn't fair to you."
Shelagh, with her head still pressed against Patrick's chest, could feel his heat thumping a strong, reassuring rhythm and that, coupled with his candid words, left her feeling a little lightheaded. To have gone from the grief that underscored her crisis of faith to hiding an all-consuming love for a man that was forbidden to her, to then being diagnosed with a life-threatening illness to this? Was there a word that did justice to this moment? If this was God's plan for her, she was indeed a blessed woman. This love was a gift.
Attempting to find her voice, she once again looked up in to his face, seeing the tight set of his jaw and a little twitch in his brow, she sought to assuage his fears, "Patrick,"
Before she could go on, he interrupted, his voice tight and strained, "Please don't tell me it doesn't matter; I may not be a man of faith, but I know that fantasising about a Nun is crossing a boundary."
"Fantasising?" She whispered, more to herself than for want of clarification. The concept was almost alien to her, and painted his words in a different light. He had looked upon her 'as a woman'. Had she herself fantasised about him in such a raw way? She realised that she hadn't allowed herself to stray that far. Her self-discipline, honed over years of servitude had allowed her to clamp down on thoughts of that nature. However, it would be untruthful for her to say that the stirrings of desire had been completely absent, he was certainly an aesthetically pleasing man.
"You must think me a beast."
His voice held such remorse and she trusted him all the more for it. "I do not think you are a beast Patrick." And she was relieved to find that she truly didn't. While inexperienced, she was in no way naive to the workings of intimate relationships. She had seen the best and worst of love and lust in Poplar and drawn her conclusions accordingly.
He looked into her eyes for a long moment, as if testing a theory and when at last he spoke, his words were pensive, "Shelagh Mannion may not but Sister Bernadette, I think would have."
Shelagh chuckled and rested her hand against Patrick's cheek, "Sister Bernadette would have been mortified!" Her assessment was an attempt to lighten the mood, but she couldn't bear the crestfallen expression on his face, and sought to sooth him, however in doing so, spoke words without censor, "But I find it rather thrilling."
Patrick's eyes widened, and his eyebrows arched in surprise. Shelagh for her part, dropped her hand from his cheek and took a step backwards, mortified that she had spoken so brazenly.
"Shelagh, please don't be embarrassed to say what you are feeling," he paused, "and definitely don't be embarrassed to feel what you're feeling."
She wanted to agree… or disagree. She wanted to say some something, anything really, but found she couldn't comprehend her own thoughts and feelings enough to articulate herself.
Patrick filled the silence, "I want to know you, Shelagh. Please trust me." He held his hand out to her, an invitation.
"Oh Patrick," She delicately accepted his proffered hand. "I want to let you in, to tell you everything there is to know. Only I don't really know who I am now. And what I feel is so new, I'm overwhelmed with the weight of it all."
Patrick guided her back over to the settee and knelt down before her, so he could look straight in to her eyes that were so full of question. "Shelagh, I want to us to spend ours lives together; I want us to be a family. But if you need time, time to discover who you are, I will be here waiting."
Her voice was soft and shy as she spoke but held a conviction that was absolute, "I don't want to walk this path alone, Patrick. It has taken such a long time to get to here, I want us to make a start, together." Her words echoed those spoken only yesterday and she was surprised to find that it already felt like so long ago.
Patrick's face lit up at her words and he kissed her hand. "Then let us discover who Shelagh Mannion is together. We don't need to rush, and you don't need to be afraid, it's just the two of us."
Shelagh again felt lightheaded and this time enjoyed the warm, fuzzy feeling that Patrick's words evoked. That was until she spotted the glaringly obvious floor in his plan. "Just the two of us sounds perfectly lovely yet I feel that you are forgetting someone."
Patrick looked adorably confused. "God?"
Shelagh didn't know if she was shocked or amused, or somewhere in-between. "Timothy!"
He smiled at her sheepishly and winked, "Don't let on to Timothy that I mistook him for God, I'll never hear the end of it."
When Shelagh didn't immediately respond, Patrick rushed to apologise, "Oh, I didn't mean to trivialise your faith-"
"I didn't take offense, Patrick. I was just thinking about Timothy,"
As if sensing where she was going, Patrick squeezed her hand, "He adores you."
Shelagh smiled, she had long had a soft spot for the young boy. "I adore him, too. I just want to be certain that he is happy with…" she trailed off, unsure. Patrick had said that he wanted them to spend their lives together, but it felt presumptuous of her to put a name to their situation before things were official.
Patrick looked thoughtful for a moment; Shelagh was even more confused when he smiled like he had remembered something but all he said was, "You can be certain. But I'm afraid I need to get you back to your lodgings before curfew."
"Oh, I ought to have been checking the time." She made to stand up and Patrick let her, "If I set out now I should just get back in good time."
"You're not walking Shelagh, I will drive you back."
Bristling slightly at his commanding tone, she replied, "I am perfectly capable of walking back, thank you."
"I don't doubt that you are but it's cold out and I've already allowed your lungs to be assaulted by smoke this evening. It's a long walk in this weather."
Shelagh conceded and as they arrived back at her lodgings, Patrick turned to her as he switched the engine off. "I have a few things to do in the morning, but would you meet me at the Parish Hall around noon?"
"The Parish Hall?" She asked timidly.
He understood her misgivings immediately, "It will be empty, until much later on. Also, if you are agreeable, I would like to take you out on a proper date tomorrow evening."
Shelagh blushed and she thought herself juvenile, though something about the word 'date' made her truly giddy. She was still nervous about being seen stepping out with the local GP and while she knew that she couldn't hide forever, she'd rather have a little more time feeling inconspicuous. "A date would be most agreeable."
Patrick smiled brightly, "I know somewhere perfect, although it is a short drive out into the countryside."
Shelagh, exhaled, "That does sound perfect." Then, with a surge of courage, she leant across to him and kissed his cheek before quickly letting herself out of the car. With a small wave she disappeared in to the boarding house.
Patrick stared at the door for a few seconds, before shaking his head and starting the engine. "I have some shopping to do tomorrow." He said to himself, as he pulled away from the curb.